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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23337565">Across The Universe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsdia0/pseuds/heyitsdia0'>heyitsdia0</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Longer Fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Aziraphale, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Complete, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Kiss, Firsts, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Gun Violence, Homophobia, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Physical Abuse, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Protective Aziraphale, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trauma, but not smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:27:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>60,958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23337565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsdia0/pseuds/heyitsdia0</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you enjoy angst, drama, arguments that shouldn’t have happened, religious cults, piano playing, and child abuse? Then you’ve come to the right place, pal!</p><p>I’m not new to fanfiction but this plotline might make you believe otherwise. </p><p>*Rating changed for violence/sexual content*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Ligur/Michael (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Longer Fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In My Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>please be kind i am a young high school student with no talent or humor</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It was just another day....</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> Fundamentally, if you were to break it down, all small towns are exactly the same.</p><p> It doesn’t matter if you had a famous writer born and bred in yours; it doesn’t matter if your library was set up by a famous, wealthy philanthropist - <em> all small towns are the same. </em> </p><p> Eden Hill was that small town. It was known for its small town colloquialisms, usual pleasantries, everyone-knows-everyone endearments, and <em> that side of town </em>.  </p><p> Because all small towns are the same, you’ll know what I mean. That Side Of Town is the one you avoid during long, romantic nighttime drives. That Side Of Town is the one people gossip about at garden parties. That Side Of Town is the one that is either disregarded entirely or regarded with so much disdain it’s held at the bottom of the hierarchy, so low and despicable and sleazy.</p><p> It’s not hard to imagine, either. That’s what made it so easy for everyone else who <em> didn’t </em> live there to hate it. </p><p> All small towns are the same.</p><p> Overrun with drugs, scumbags, and most of all, <em> drunken, trashy losers.</em></p><p> Anthony Crowley lived, breathed, and consumed the whole of his street. Once in a while, he’d venture past it, bored of the goings-on around him. Five days a week he’d trudge along, in rain, sleet, snow, or even on those lucky sunny days to school, and then back home he’d go. </p><p> It was a process now, and he was comfortable with it. He liked living in That Side Of Town. He didn’t have many friends, but he was happy playing with the other kids. They weren’t the nicest - sometimes they were downright cruel. </p><p> “‘Tony, why dunt you come on down and play?” Freddie Hastur had yelled across the street one Saturday. Anthony hopped across the street - there was no need to look; no one ever drove down it except for the residents of the street themselves - and stopped at Freddie’s mailbox.</p><p> A few other kids had crowded around Freddie, eyeing the red headed boy with curious animosity. Anthony shivered. He wasn’t even cold. Something in their stares made him feel odd, like he was being judged for something he didn’t even do. </p><p> “‘Tony, you list’nin?”</p><p> Anthony blinked. “Sorry, what was that?”</p><p> Freddie kicked a rubber ball toward him. “We’re playin’ a game by Humphreys. You wanna come?”</p><p> Anthony shrugged. “You’ve never asked before. Why’re you askin’ now?”</p><p> Freddie returned the shrug. “We need someone with good aim.”</p><p> <em> Ah </em> , Anthony thought miserably. <em> That’s why they wanted me </em>. </p><p> “So, you coming or not, freak-a-loid?” A brunette asked. Anthony immediately recognized her as Annie Dagon. Everyone knew it wasn’t actually her name; she’d chosen it for attention. Unfortunately, no one knew her real one, so it had stuck. Even the other parents on the block referred to Annie’s family as ‘The Dagons.’</p><p> A few kids raised eyebrows. “Whazzat mean, freak-a-loid?” Another girl asked. <em> Beatrice </em>. Anthony groaned.</p><p> “I dunno,” Ligur Mitchell murmured, eyeing Anthony crossley. “But I know he’s weird. You are a freak, ain’t you, Crowley?”</p><p> “M’ not,” Anthony whispered. “It’s just-”</p><p> “Your eyezz, innit?” Beatrice pushed past Freddie and the rest of the gang. She was much shorter than Anthony, and had a speech impediment. Anthony wondered why she wasn’t getting made fun of - after all, she sounded just like her name.</p><p> Before he could react, though, Freddie ripped off Anthony’s glasses. Suddenly, the crowd began to laugh.</p><p> “Hey, Annie was right - he is a freak!”</p><p> “I called him one first,” Ligur growled sourly. “Dint I, Fred?”</p><p> Nobody was paying him any attention. Freddie tossed Anthony’s sunglasses back to him.</p><p> “Come on, Crowley. You be a thrower, and Dagon here is gonna be a catcher, and Bea s’gonna be a kicker, if we need one n-”</p><p> “What ‘bout me?” Ligur purred, decidedly miffed. </p><p> Freddie cringed. “Er, you can be a...collector.”</p><p> Ligur grinned approvingly. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> Anthony did not enjoy games. </p><p> Of course, he was extremely happy to be considered for part of the gang, but at an early age he’d realized that, as he later put it, <em> games fucking suck </em>. </p><p> Really, not even Freddie had understood why he’d invited Anthony over in the first place. Maybe it was because he was always alone. He didn’t read much, which was a good sign, and he was usually dirty, which Freddie approved of whole-heartedly (Not surprising, obviously) and he did have a good arm.</p><p> After walking down the street and making a hard left, the gang had stumbled upon the old Humphrey house. It was old, decrepit, and ugly looking. It was also right between That Side Of Town and the other side of Eden Hill, the good side, the one with white picket fences and freshly mowed lawns. </p><p> The Humphrey house marked the edge of Anthony’s world and the start of a new one. Just beyond the failing, aging house, was a row of bright, two-story homes with adorable shutters and clutter-free porches.</p><p> Ready to play, Beatrice held up the ball but was stopped when she saw Freddie raise a hand. The group - there were five of them now, including Anthony - peered out over a sickly creeping hedge. </p><p> <em> Moving vans. </em></p><p> “Someone’s movin’ into the Humphrey house?” Ligur hissed, the ever-needed Captain Fucking Obvious of the group.</p><p>“Whoisit?” Beatrice has a habit of speaking all at once. “I can’t see.” </p><p> “Prolly some rich bloke with a hot wife from America,” Annie cackled. </p><p> Freddie shook his head. “Nah, looks like a family.”</p><p> The group groaned. </p><p> “Looks rich, that’s what I think,” Ligur pressed, pointing over the hedge.</p><p> Freddie gave him a low-lidded stare. “Are you daft, mate?”</p><p> “What?” Ligur retorted. He was all of eight years old, just the same as everyone else, and he was not about to start a fight with Freddie Hastur, of all people. </p><p> “I said, ‘Are you really that daft, mate?’” Freddie repeated. </p><p> Anthony rolled his eyes. He looked out over the bushes and swooping trees. He could see a family, just as Freddie had pointed out. A boy, maybe about his age, or a year older, ran out of the car and began chasing a stray dog across the lawn.</p><p> “Hey, ‘Tony, whatcha starin’ at?” Freddie called. </p><p> <em> He’s horrid, </em> Anthony thought to himself. <em> But it’s better than nothing. </em></p><p>“A boy,” Annie laughed again. The group began to murmur hushed, raspy ‘ooos’ before Anthony felt someone kick his back. </p><p> “Freak!” Anthony had fallen onto the lawn; he wasn’t small for eight, but he definitely wasn’t as big as Arnold Schwarzenegger, nor did he have the stamina. He was also a child, so that probably didn’t help.</p><p> “Hello, are you alright?” Asked a bright voice.</p><p> Anthony attempted lifting up his head but moaned in melodramatic agony. If he was being honest with himself, it didn’t hurt. But it did make for a good performance, especially for the new kid.</p><p> “Oh, sorry, let me help you!” The boy exclaimed, and somehow managed to bring Anthony to his feet. “I’m Ezra, we just moved here.”</p><p> “Yeah, that’s kind of obvious.”</p><p> Ezra tilted his head. “Okay, but most people we’ve met so far have said stuff like…’Oh, wow, that’s great!’” He raised his hands dramatically. If Anthony wasn’t supposed to be cool, he would have complimented him. </p><p> Anthony, who had regained most of his strength, sarcastically waved his hands. “Wow, Ezra, that’s brilliant. I’m so happy to meet you!”</p><p> Ezra beamed. “Why thank you! That was actually really kin-”</p><p> Anthony clamped a hand on his mouth. “Whatever you were going to say, don’t say it. I don’t wanna hear it, I’m sorry, goodbye, but if that’s all I’d like to just leave now thank you very much.”</p><p> He turned on one heel, prepared to hop over the hedge.</p><p> “You don’t have to be sorry, though.”</p><p> Anthony swiveled. “Uh..what?”</p><p> “Well, I said I was sorry when I didn’t help you, right?”</p><p> “Uh...yeah.” Anthony looked up at the sky. <em> Where’s he even going with this?</em></p><p>“Well, you said sorry just now, and…”</p><p> Anthony began to laugh. Soon, he was doubled over on the grass. When he recovered, mud and grass had stained his pale cheeks. </p><p> “You really are just a prat, aren’t you?” Anthony choked out between laughter. </p><p> Ezra narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”</p><p> Anthony stood up. “You really don’t know, huh? Man, were you raised by aliens or somethin’?”</p><p> Ezra blushed. “My parents are normal, thank you very much.”</p><p> Anthony extended a hand. “Anthony. Crowley.”</p><p> Ezra accepted it proudly, as if he were actually <em> glad </em> to have made his acquaintance. <em> Boy </em>, was he going to have a story to tell when he got back. “Ezra - Well, I told you that already, but my last name is Fell.”</p><p> “Do people tell you you’re a real <em> trip </em> back home?” Anthony asked, biting back another hurl of laughter. </p><p> Ezra scrunched up his nose. “Huh?”</p><p> Anthony grit his teeth.</p><p> <em>Wait till Freddie hears this... </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Day in the Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anthony and Ezra get to know each other better.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Anthony Crowley didn’t like Ezra Fell.</p><p> Well, he might have said that a little earlier, except that when he got to school on Monday the small, blonde haired boy had made the <em> exceptional </em> decision to follow him around.</p><p> It was bad enough that Anthony and Freddie and the others all got ignored by the more popular kids. But now he was getting <em> followed </em> by one. </p><p> Anthony had been on his way to lunch when he heard a familiar voice call out his name. He groaned and kept walking. </p><p> “Toooony!” Freddie howled as he ran to catch up with him. “I saw you n’ that new kid. What’s his name again?”</p><p> Anthony shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t hang out with him.”</p><p> Freddie nodded. “That’s good. His lot isn’t the kind you wanna hang out with, anyways.”</p><p> Anthony frowned. “Why not? Just ‘cause they don’t talk to us?”</p><p> Freddie rolled his eyes. “Why else? You’ll see, ‘Tony. He’s just like the rest of ‘em.”</p><p> Anthony and Freddie turned the corner and walked into the lunchroom. Immediately, Annie and Beatrice were waving them over frantically. Ligur only sat there, a brooding expression on his face.</p><p> “Anthony? Is that you?”</p><p> Anthony cringed and turned around. “Er...hey, Ezra.”</p><p> Freddie nudged him. “Hey, are you comin’ mate?” </p><p> “You go on ahead.” Freddie nodded and walked over to their table, high-fiving the rest of the group. Anthony and Ezra only stood awkwardly in the middle of the busy cafeteria before Ezra cleared his throat.</p><p> “Would you like to have lunch with me? Outside, of course?”</p><p> Anthony shook his head. “Nah, people talk.”</p><p> Ezra raised any eyebrow. “What do you mean? No one’s talked to me all day.”</p><p> Anthony shook his head again. “No, like...you know what? Forget it. You’ll learn eventually.” He gave up and waved goodbye to the boy. “I’ve gotta go. See you.”</p><p> Ezra took a seat next to a boy about his age with dark brown hair. He opened up his lunch and smiled as cheerfully as possible. </p><p> “Hello,” he said, a little too quietly. No one responded. In fact, they just kept talking. “Hello?”</p><p> The boy next to him turned and, having noticed him, grabbed his arm. “Hey guys, look - it’s the new kid!”</p><p> “Ah, hello,” Ezra spoke as politely as possible, remembering his mother’s lesson on manners. “I’m Ezra, Ezra Fell?” </p><p> A girl with short, light brown hair stopped speaking and smiled sharply. “Oh, I’ve heard about you!” </p><p> Soon everyone seated began to introduce themselves. Ezra tried to keep track of their names. Micheala Connor and her brother, Gabriel, both lived next door to Ezra. They had all their lives. Uriel Taylor lived across the street, two doors down from Sandy Murphy.</p><p> When they had finished, Ezra took a long, slow sip from his juice box and smiled again. “Wow,” he said, a little louder. (He had forgotten how loud lunchrooms could be) “You all seem to be so lucky, living so close to one another, and just down the street from everyone else!”</p><p> “Excuse me?” Micheala asked sharply. </p><p> “Well, you know...you guys...could..” Ezra trailed off and reddened at having realized he’d struck a nerve. He wondered which one it was, because it looked as if everyone was angry with him. “Never mind me, I’m sorry.”</p><p> “You’re forgiven,” Gabriel said happily, slapping him on the back. “God doesn’t hold grudges for long.” </p><p> Ezra frowned, but didn’t have time to respond. The bell had rung; it was time for recess. The other kids made their way outside, leaving their trays and bags behind. Ezra cleaned up after himself before turning around to leave, but was startled when he saw that Anthony had not left yet. He was sitting - actually, sitting wasn’t the right way to describe it; Ezra really didn’t know how - with his head down on the table.</p><p> He walked over to the boy and, waiting for him to say something, did the only thing he felt right: sat down.</p><p> He continued to wait until he noticed a bag of biscuits by the boys arms.</p><p> “Anthony?”</p><p> “Mmph.”</p><p> “Anthony, can I have your biscuits if you aren’t feeling well?”</p><p> Suddenly, Anthony sat up and groaned. “Sorry, what?” Ezra got a good, long look at him. His hair was mussed and his black outfit was wrinkled and creased. </p><p> “Uhm, your glasses,” Ezra said, pointing at the lopsided frames. Anthony mumbled something incoherent and pulled them off his head. </p><p> “Damn,” He swore and got up, holding them up to the light, tilting his head to avoid the sun. “They’re cracked.”</p><p> “Oh, I’m awfully sorry-”</p><p> “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Anthony smirked and put the glasses back on. “Remember?”</p><p> Ezra nodded. “Right. Well. I do actually feel sorry for you - they looked rather nice.” And he wasn’t lying.</p><p> “They were,” Anthony grinned. Ezra liked his smile - his teeth were sharp and pointed at the ends, like some kind of vicious animal, but they somehow enhanced his features. “One day, ‘m gonna have a whole black house and a big, black car.” </p><p> Ezra thought about this for a moment. “Why do you like black so much, anyhow?”</p><p> Anthony shrugged. “I think it’s cool.”</p><p> “And you are,” Ezra said proudly, before blushing. “I mean, I think you are, at least.”</p><p> Anthony shrugged again, but there was a small smile curling at the edges of his mouth. He liked the compliments - he could do this all day. “Thanks.”</p><p> “Aren’t you gonna say anything about me?”</p><p> “Why should I?”</p><p> Ezra contemplated this and then grabbed the package of biscuits. “I don’t know. I just thought it was something people do once they got a compliment.”</p><p> “Returnin’ the favor,” Anthony said, but frowned. Embarrassed, Ezra looked down and realized he’d opened the other boys cookies. “Gimme one,” Anthony grunted impatiently. “I’m starved.”</p><p> Ezra rolled his eyes. “You’re dramatic.” </p><p> Anthony popped a biscuit into his mouth. “You’re fussy.”</p><p>  They both laughed, but the tension hadn’t melted just yet. The rest of their conversations that afternoon never left the realm of schoolwork and tests, and decidedly, that was probably best. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Matchbox</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time the boys had both turned twelve, they’d both gotten into their respective groups, and occasionally talked to one another on the way to school.</p><p> “I just don’t get it,” Anthony said. They were sitting (albeit not very covertly) in the school library. “Why you try so hard to be like ‘em.”</p><p> “Like who?” Ezra murmured, nose buried in a book. Anthony scowled from the recesses of his own book; unfortunately, it was a textbook. He’d been assigned a whole score of poems from Shakespeare catalogs - and they weren’t even the fun ones. </p><p> “Gabriel and the lot of ‘em,” Anthony retorted. “N’ his sister, n’ Uriel and what’s his name.” Aziraphale perked up. “It’s Sandy, dear.” Anthony reddened. He checked his watch, but the glass was cracked and he was sure it had stopped working ages ago. “Hey, d’you have the time?”</p><p> Ezra shook his head. “You know I don’t have a phone yet.”</p><p> “Yeah, but your parents can afford a watch for you, can’t they?”</p><p> Ezra thought about this. “I suppose so.” Anthony nodded. Suddenly, he felt very poor. Which he was. It was yet another reminder that he and Ezra were, technically, on opposite sides. “Listen,” he said quickly, stuffing the textbook in his bag. “I’ve gotta go.”</p><p> Ezra shut his book. “I’ll come with you.” Anthony stopped for a moment, his glasses sliding down his nose. He pushed them back up and shook his head. “No. Don’t want people...talking.”</p><p> “Oh. <em> That </em>. Right.”</p><p> “I’ll see you ‘round?”</p><p> Ezra gave him a weak smile. “Sure, Anthony.” Just as the redhead was about to leave, he felt a hand tugging at his sleeve. </p><p> “Ezra, what in God’s name are you doing?” Anthony hissed, sitting back down. “Do you <em> want </em> to be made fun of?” </p><p> Ezra cringed. “No, no, that’s not it. I am sorry, I just wanted to know if you...needed help. With the sonnets - er, you know - Shakespeare.” </p><p> Anthony flushed. “Ngk..Um. Yeah. That’d be great.” He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. </p><p> Ezra smiled. “Tomorrow?” Anthony smiled.</p><p> “Sure, angel.”</p><p> “Sorry, what was that?”</p><p> <em> Damnit. </em>“Uhm. Nothing. Gotta go. See you.”</p><p> Ezra sighed. <em> That boy… </em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>  Anthony slipped inside by way of the back door. He walked by his parents bedroom and felt the urge to run to his own room, but it was too late. The door swung open, revealing his father and Trish.</p><p> “Hey ‘Tony.” His dad reeked of alcohol. He didn’t even wait for a response. “You gonna say hello to me or not, you little git?” </p><p> Anthony flinched as his father raised his arm.</p><p> There was no point in running. He could already feel the sting against his cheeks, the sharp pain inside his mouth the fresh blood dripping from his lip. Luckily, he didn’t fall. His dad led his step-mother to the kitchen to pour them both new drinks. “You gonna answer me?”</p><p> “Sorry dad.” Anthony cursed him inwardly. His dad gestured toward Trish. “You haven’t said one word to Trish. Is that any way to treat your step-mum?”</p><p> “No sir.” His father nodded. </p><p> “Good.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> Ezra had a great house. He should know - his parents told him every night. He had a pet rabbit, and an older brother that let him do what he wanted with his old toys, and all the books in the world. He had a <em> great life.</em></p><p> “You’re home late,” his mother called as he walked into the kitchen. “I asked you to be home by four-thirty.” Ezra sighed. “Sorry, mum. I got a bit-”</p><p>“Not now, honey. Dinner’s just about ready and I’m busy.”</p><p> “Oh,” Ezra said quietly. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”</p><p> His mother jerked her head toward the dining room. “Get your father.” Ezra nodded and hurried out of the kitchen. He walked into the living room and cleared his throat. “Dad?”</p><p> His father glanced up from the paper he’d been reading. “Yes?”</p><p> “Mum needs you in the kitchen.”</p><p> “Tell her I’ll be in a jiff, alright?” Ezra started to leave before his father stopped him. “Ezra, you really need to start standing up straight. You don’t want to walk around looking like trash, do you?”</p><p> Ezra flustered. “Yes, father.”</p><p> “Good.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is where it starts getting angsty I think...</p><p> </p><p>Stay safe, guys. I appreciate all and any feedback. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Tell Me What You See</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anthony gives an unlikely...speech during class.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Next Day</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Anthony checked the clock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra was late to their first (and only) class together - history.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Both boys had found that they loved history, although for very different reasons. Ezra for the reading, Anthony for the chance to make fun of Napoleon and his hat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The door opened, and in walked Ezra, his back ram-rod straight. He took his seat, which just so happened to be in front of Anthonys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Is something wrong with your back?” Anthony murmured as the teacher began going over Ancient Rome. Ezra turned around to rummage through his satchel for his binder, their eyes avoiding one another. “Nothing,” he whispered back. “It’s nothing, Anthony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anthony rolled his eyes. “Well, you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anthony Crowley!” Anthony could feel his ears burn. “Would you care to tell me what you’ve been saying to Mr. Fell to </span>
  <em>
    <span>distract him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anthony fumed. “I wasn’t trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>distract</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, ma’am.” The class burst into laughter.  The teacher - Mrs. Burns - was fuming too. Anthony continued, although his face had become something like a tomato. “I was just, uhm, explaining to him about...er..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ancient Rome?” Mrs. Burns suggested, a cocky grin on her face. Anthony, relieved, nodded. “Yes - yeah, totally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mrs. Burns folded her hands behind her back and began pacing the room before approaching Anthony's desk. “Then I’m sure you’d be happy to share with the class, right, everyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra turned in his chair, horrified. He almost raised his hand but lowered it when they watched as Anthony got up from his chair and walked to the front of the room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is he doing? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ezra thought incredulously. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s gone mad…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Unfortunately, he hadn’t. Anthony cleared his throat. “I was telling Ezra that he was wrong. About, uhm, Ancient Rome,” he began carefully. His teacher rolled her eyes. “Mr. Crowley, get on with it, please?” Anthony nodded. “Uh-huh..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He concentrated very hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And then he remembered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So, anyways, these two guys were friends - er, uhm..very..very good friends. And they were fighting in a war, and..” He looked up shyly at Ezra. It was then that something within him sparked. “It took place during the Trojan war, alright? One of them was named Nisus. He was a bit older than Euryalus. Anyways, they meet in a game, and you know how much Nisus loves Euryalus already because when he falls he trips another guy just so Euryalus could win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  He paused for a moment, but noticing that no one had stopped him yet, decided to keep going. He couldn’t stop himself. “So, uhm, during the war, Nisus thinks they should raid the Latins’ camp, and Euryalus wants to go with him, so during the night they massacre the whole place - it's kinda cool, actually…” Embarrassed, he rubbed his neck, his eyes dancing across the room until they focused on Ezra’s. “In the end, it’s no use, really. They run off together, but then Nisus realizes that Euryalus isn’t there with him. He goes back to the camp, but...but he’d been captured. He tried saving him, but, like I said, there was no point.” He shrugged, and almost walked back to his seat before a flurry of arms went up into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er..yes?” Anthony asked, startled. A blonde girl spoke first. Anthony recognized her immediately - Gwin Dawes. She lived a few houses down from Ezra.“So what happens to them both?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anthony blushed. He hadn’t exactly expected that. “Do you all really want to know?” The group nodded in silent unanimity. He took a heavy breath, and lowered his voice dramatically. “They were both murdered,” he said it so slowly and devilishly that even Mrs. Burns gasped. “But that’s not the worst part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?” Someone asked nervously. “Tell us already, Anthony!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He weakened at the thought and sighed. “Well...The next day, when Euryalus’s mum is out or whatever, she hears that her son died, but not..normally, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “How?” Gwin whispered anxiously. Anthony grinned. He enjoyed having an audience. He wouldn’t have known it then, but Ezra was shooting daggers at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Latin’s put their heads up on spikes for the whole town to see.” Anthony mumbled. It was supposed to be this big finish, but it sounded more sobering than anything when he said it. “So, uh, what were you saying, Mrs. Burns?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was an aching, unified creaking noise that sounded when all the students turned to stare at the teacher, eager for her response. Blinking, she composed herself, and walked up to the front of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I think Anthony knows quite a bit about history, don’t you all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The class murmured in hushed agreement. Mrs. Burns turned to glance at the boy, a new idea springing to mind. “That is why I’m going to request that he be placed in the Honors English class. How about it, Anthony?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anthony shifted his weight for a moment. “I’ve never been in an honors class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’ll do fine. You can sit down now….” she trailed off, something still on her mind. “Anthony, where did you hear that story anyways?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “My mum read me mythology when I was a kid,” he said softly. “I haven't forgotten them.” Mrs. Burns only nodded. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m sorry this is so short! I’m still in school and freshman algebra is driving me insane (oh crap it’s April fools...uhm...well..April fools?)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Act Naturally</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anthony sat through two boring meetings with the principal before he could finally talk to Ezra that day. It was something about getting moved to an AP English class, but he hadn’t really been listening.</p><p> He had one thing on his mind.</p><p> <em> Ezra </em>. </p><p> Almost snakelike, he made his way out of the main building and into the library seamlessly; no one saw him, and no one would. He traced his fingers along the bookshelves until he saw a familiar blonde head peeking out from behind the religious texts section. </p><p> Grinning ferociously, he walked a little further and pulled out a thick book. On the other side, Ezra had been reading an even thicker book and when he saw Anthony in front of him, dropped it.</p><p> “Anthony!” He hissed, stooping to pick up the book. “You startled me!”</p><p> Anthony wrinkled his nose. “About that, Ezra. I want you to call me something else.” Ezra frowned. “But don’t you like your name?”</p><p> Anthony shrugged. “Not really. I don’t like bein’ called Tony, though.” Ezra nodded, and placed the book back on the shelf. Anthony, annoyed, pulled the book out and flipped through it. </p><p> “Why’re you readin’ about the Bible?”</p><p> Ezra looked through the gap wearily. “It’s...for a research project.” Anthony narrowed his eyes and shoved the book back in the space before circling around the corner. “You’re lying.”</p><p> Ezra reddened. “No, I didn’t.”</p><p> “Yes, you did, Ezra, m’not stupid, alright?”</p><p> Ezra folded his arms. “After what’s been going around the school, I’m well aware of <em> that </em>.”</p><p> “What do you mean by ...<em> that </em>?”</p><p> “After your little performance in history, everyone says you’re getting moved to AP English.”</p><p> “Already? I just found out myself,” Anthony whined. “Don’t give me that look, I didn’t do anything.”</p><p> Ezra nodded. “I know...uhm, what do I call you, now?”</p><p> “Er...I hadn’t actually thought of that.”</p><p> “What, do you want me to pick for you?” Ezra asked incredulously.</p><p> “It would help,” Anthony shot back. Ezra thought for a moment. “Is it a girls name?”</p><p> Anthony blushed. “I-I didn’t know that was an option.”</p><p> Ezra paused. “Isn’t it?”</p><p> “How should I know?!”</p><p> “You’re supposed to!” </p><p> “What does that even mean?” Anthony groaned, leaning against the shelves. A deep part of him wished he was leaning against Ezra. </p><p> “You’re...you know...cool. You know what’s popular, you know..you know everything, really.” Ezra said softly. He met his friends eyes - because that’s all they were then - and didn’t leave them. “You’re much smarter than you think.”</p><p> Anthony lowered his head. “And how do you know that?”</p><p> “Because...we’re friends, aren’t we?” Ezra asked. There was a surge of hopefulness in his voice.</p><p> “Yeah...friends.” Anthony murmured. His voice had dropped to a low hum. “How ‘bout my last name?”</p><p> Ezra thought it over in his head. “Crowley.”</p><p> “Say it again.” Anthony whispered. </p><p> Ezra reddened. “Er...what?”</p><p> “Just...say it,” Anthony grumbled. “I think that’s the one-” he stopped as Ezra grabbed his hands. His blue eyes were each wide as the moon. “I love it,” he said happily. “I think you’re right.”</p><p> Anthony didn’t let go. His voice had gotten lost somewhere; he wasn’t sure where. What was worse, was that he didn’t <em> want </em> to let go. </p><p> Suddenly, he had an idea.</p><p> “Did you want to go over those sonnets with me?” </p><p> Ezra smiled. “I’d like that.”</p><p> Anthony pulled the other boy's arm as they stalked the shelves. Ezra halted in the middle of the aisle before tugging wildy on Anthony’s black jacket. “This might do..what’re you supposed to do, again?”</p><p> “Analyze ‘em, I guess.”</p><p> “Oh. Well, you could start with this one…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> O, how I faint when I of you do write, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And in the praise thereof spends all his might </em>
</p><p><em> To make me tongue-tied speaking of your </em>-”</p><p> </p><p> Ezra paused. “Why are you looking at me like that?”</p><p> Anthony blinked. “Looking at you like what?”</p><p> “Am I stupid?” Ezra asked passive-aggressively. “Is that it?”</p><p> Anthony sighed. “Nothing. It’s nothin, alright?” He grabbed the book out of Ezra’s hands before he could say anything and shoved his face in it to avoid his stare.</p><p> Ezra only rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, <em> Crowley </em>.”</p><p> For the first time in a long time, Anthony Crowley smiled out of pure <em> happiness </em> . Not malice, or meanness, or even just to play a prank on Ezra. They were right - it sounded much better than <em> Anthony </em> ever did. Unfortunately, something nagged at him, aching to hear Ezra say it one more time….</p><p> He really had to get that side of him under control. He followed Ezra as he scoured the romance section, sighing as he opened the cover of a Julie Garwood novel. </p><p> “You really like readin’ that garbage, huh?”</p><p> Ezra looked up, his pale face suddenly as red as Crowley’s hair.</p><p> “Only on the weekends.”</p><p> “Oh, so that excuses it?”</p><p> “I never said it did,” Ezra huffed. “I’ll see you later?”</p><p> Crowley smiled again. “Sure, angel.”</p><p> This time, Ezra didn’t say a word.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>These aren’t supposed to be so short! This is mostly build up to what is meant to be a very, very slow burn. We’re in this together guys!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Tomorrow Never Knows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley meets up with Ligur and Hastur; Ezra gets a call from a particular *fiend*...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three Years Later</p><p> </p><p>  “Y’know, it sucks real bad that Tony is in those <em> smart </em> classes,” Freddie grumbled for the umpteenth time. Frankly, Ligur was getting tired of it. “We never see him - have you, Ligur?”</p><p> He got no response.“Isn’t he callin’ himself something else these days? His middle name…no, that couldn’t be it...”</p><p> “<em> Crowley </em>,” Ligur snarled, kicking a rock. They’d been waiting for fifteen minutes by then, at least, and he was getting tired of it. Freddie only nodded.</p><p> “Right, right,” he sniffed. “I knew that.”</p><p> Before long, a flash of a black bike parked at a tree and a long, lanky figure hopped off of it. He still adorned his old watch, and his sunglasses, but he’d begun wearing pullovers and had switched from baggy jeans to tight ones. </p><p> Right off the bat, Crowley noticed that Freddie and Ligur hadn’t changed a bit. He waved and already began making an excuse.</p><p> “Sorry, guys, you know how it is once you get past Thornberry n’ after that turn at-”</p><p> “It doesn’t matter,” Ligur hissed. “You’re late.” </p><p> “Now, Ligur, no need to be rude. <em> Tony </em> had an explanation, didn’t he?” </p><p> Ligur sniffed. “Anyways, are we gonna get to it or not?” </p><p> Freddie shrugged. “No need to rush. Let’s recount what we’ve done this week. What ‘bout you, Ligur?” At this, Ligur grinned. </p><p> “I have stolen a woman’s purse,” he said, holding it up for the other two boys to see. Crowley shifted uneasily. “Uh, wow...that’s really...cool.”</p><p> Freddie nodded. “I stole a pack of beer and some cigarettes. There are plenty for all of us, as usual. The man at the counter didn’t suspect a thing.”</p><p> Crowley smirked. <em> Yeah, I bet. </em>Looking at Freddie and Ligur, they both looked like they had walked straight out of a hip-hop music video after raiding a Hot Topic. There was no way you couldn’t notice them. </p><p> “Alright, what ‘bout you, <em> Crowley </em>?” Ligur snarled. </p><p> “You’ll like this one, guys,” Crowley grinned. “I didn’t return my library book this morning.”</p><p> He opened his arms, a triumphant smile on his face, waiting for their reactions. </p><p> Dumbfounded, Freddie shook his head. “I-I don’t get the joke, Tony.”</p><p> “T-there isn’t one.” When he didn’t get a response, he decided to explain it further, which probably wasn’t a good idea. “Come on, guys - it’s simple. Those books are expensive - you know that - and if I steal it, well-”</p><p> “It’s not exactly...craftsmanship.” Ligur muttered. Crowley laughed. “It still works, doesn’t it? Think about it - the librarians are gonna be mad, the people checking out the books are gonna be mad-”</p><p> Freddie made a growling noise, Crowley’s cue to stop talking, before digging around in his bag. “Get closer, Tony.”</p><p> Crowley did so, and watched in shock as Freddie pulled out a gun. “N-no,” he began laughing nervously, terrified at the sight. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”</p><p> Ligur grinned. “It’s not gonna be pointed at <em> you </em> , <em> Crowley </em>.” Crowley clenched his teeth and nodded. “What’s it for, then?”</p><p> Freddie grinned ferociously. “Ligur’ll explain it for you.”</p><p> Ligur accepted this as his cue and went ahead. “We’re gonna go out...what’s the word, Freddie?”</p><p> Freddie rolled his eyes. “A <em> bang </em>.”</p><p> “Yeah, that. We’re gonna get ourselves some liquor and girls and after that we’re gettin’ the real prize of the evening.”</p><p> Crowley blinked. <em> Why was he so surprised? </em> “Right, yes, a-a bang. Mhm.” He started rocking on his heels. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. “SO,” he said a little too loudly. “When are we...going to do this...thing?”</p><p> Freddie pressed the head of the gun against his stomach. It was ice cold. “Not so loud, Crowley. Remember your place here.” Crowley nodded numbly as Freddie stashed the gun inside his bag. </p><p> “We’re gonna be doin’ a lot of things that night. Who knows where the excitement might take us, eh?” Freddie winked at Crowley, but it only made him uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, Tony. It’s only three months away.”</p><p> “T-three months?!” Freddie and Ligur only stared back blankly. “You guys - t-this is..this is...I-I can’t…” he felt a cold hand pat his shoulder. “You do this for us, Crowley, and you’ll see that we’re right. You could be the richest guy in Eden Hill, lots of pretty girls on your arm, enough money for your family, too….Think about it.” Freddie shoved the bag in his hands, and let it sink in.</p><p> “You want me..t-to…”</p><p> “Don’t want to? The stakes aren’t as low, Crowley. We aren’t some little gang anymore. There’s more fun to be had, see?”</p><p> Crowley bit his lip. “I-I’m just….y’know what? Yeah. I’ll do it.”  He slung the bag over his shoulder and waved his free hand. “Ciao.”</p><p> Ligur shot Freddie a stare. “Whatssat mean?”</p><p> Freddie thought for a moment. “I dunno. It’s probably Spanish.”</p><p> “Oh.” Ligur narrowed his eyes. “When did you take Spanish?”</p><p> Freddie shrugged. “I haven’t.”</p><p> “Oh.”  </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> Ezra had spent the night at the Connors. Gabriel and Micheala’s parents had always been welcoming, but this night they weren’t around. </p><p> They’d been sitting around for some time playing games on the slim, black console Gabriel had gotten for Christmas before Micheala got up to get more popcorn. </p><p> “Be right back,” she said, winking at Ezra. He blushed and instead looked to Gabriel, who was intently fixated on winning. When he had lost, he threw the controller to the side.</p><p> “So, Ezra.”</p><p> “Yes?”</p><p> “Did you like the game I showed you?”</p><p> Ezra itched his ear nervously. “Uhm...I didn’t get much of it. I mean, it was all about, er, Jesus, you know, and I’m not..”</p><p> “Oh, come on, Ezra - I told you to come to church four times last week!” Annoyed, Gabriel sighed and leaned against the coffee table. </p><p> “I’m sorry, Gabe,” Ezra whispered. “But my mum and dad just don’t want me going out to church so often. They like family time - you know, sitting ‘round the table eating dinner and all that.” </p><p> Gabriel, on the other hand, wasn’t listening. “So. I’ve been hearing things.”</p><p> “What kinds of...things?” Ezra asked.</p><p> “That Freddie and his lot are going to go mental, if you know what I mean.”</p><p> Ezra bit back his anger. He just knew Crowley had something to do with this - and the moment he got out, he was calling him. “O-oh really. I hadn’t, um, heard about that. Silly me, you know, not listening at all…”</p><p> Gabriel nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”</p><p> Ezra only smiled back, a swear word coming to mind. It took all his courage not to say it, before Micheala came bouncing back into the room. She balanced a bowl of popcorn, books, and a blanket. </p><p> “Here’s the popcorn, Ezra,” she said cheerfully. “I brought the Book. You guys want to read Exodus with me before we turn in?”</p><p> Gabriel nudged Ezra. “You want to do the honors?”</p><p> Suddenly, Ezra’s phone went off. “One second, guys,” he flipped it open and glanced at the caller. “It’s my mum.” He pressed the phone to his ear and hurried out of the room.</p><p> “Crowley,” he hissed. “It’s late. You’re worrying me - Gabe just said-”</p><p> “Never mind what the prat said, angel. Things are….afoot.”</p><p> “I know that, you ninny!” Ezra shot back. “Gabe said you guys are...going to go mental. What does he mean by that?”</p><p> “Oh, for Christ's sake,” there was a crackling noise on the other end. “He’s not even from around here - why’s he tryin’ so hard?”</p><p> Ezra rolled his eyes. “I don’t know - why are you robbing convenience stores?”</p><p> Crowley sighed. “It’s just a thing,” he muttered. Ezra, on the other hand, was seething. </p><p> “Just a thing?!” He scream-whispered, turning around to make sure Gabe and Micheala couldn’t hear him. “Damnit, Anthony, you have to stop t-this foolishness, alright?”</p><p> Crowley laughed. “Yeah, okay, angel. Whatever you say.”</p><p> “I mean it, Crowley,” Ezra murmured into the receiver. His voice soothed Crowley, as if they were caressing him-shit. Crowley began shaking his head to get the images out of his brain before mumbling something back at Ezra. </p><p> “What? Sorry, you’re breaking up.”</p><p> <em> You wish. </em>“Just get your stuff ready,” Crowley spat, although it came out more affectionate and playful than he’d intended. “Third alternative rendezvous, if that’s alright.”</p><p> Ezra groaned. “I’m supposed to be spending the night.”</p><p> “Eh, it’s not like they’ll miss you.”</p><p> “That isn’t very nice,” Ezra pouted. </p><p> “I must not be a very nice person then,” Crowley grinned. He wished Ezra was right next to him, just so he could see the look on his adorable… “Anyways, see you there.”</p><p> “Oh. Uhm, yeah.”</p><p> Both boys hung up, not sure if they felt any better or worse than before. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the late update - I’ve been super busy lately</p><p>I can’t wait for spring break</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Don’t Pass Me By</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I’m a horrible writer lmao</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They decided not to meet at the third alternative rendezvous, but the park. Anthony had managed to turn his bike around and the Connor’s house was close enough that Ezra could walk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re looking...well. What’s the occasion?” Crowley gestured at Ezra’s button down and khakis. “Bit late for a bar mitzvah, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The Connors aren’t Jewish, Crowley,” Ezra huffed. “They’re-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Religious nuts, yeah, I got that,” Crowley murmured. He dug around in his pocket for a cigarette and lit it, cursing as the flame brushed against his finger. Ezra couldn’t help but stare at him - there was something undeniably sexy about him, especially in the light like that…</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anthony!” Ezra grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth and stomped it into the ground. “When the bloody hell did you start smoking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Family history, I guess,” Crowley muttered, staring at the remnants of tobacco that lay on the ground. “Whatever that means.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I worry, Anthony, I do. I just...I’m trying to say that I mean well, alright? I don’t want you to end up like those poor creatures in the hospital, hooked up to a machine and dead before 70.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley laughed. “We know that won’t happen, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It won’t, I’m better than that.” Crowley hopped onto a set of monkey bars, swinging his legs over the rungs. Ezra shook his head. “You don’t know, Anthony. I’m serious when I say you need to stop, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley hissed at the sound of his own name; but somehow, when it came from Ezra, it didn’t come off as an insult. It was...reverent, almost. “Okay, alright. I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra smiled. “Good.” His expression suddenly turned sour. “What exactly are Ligur and Hastur planning on doing…? Nothing bad, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel, think about it. It’s Freddie Hastur and Ligur Mitchell. What do you expect?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra frowned. “For them to drop out of school and sell hard drugs by the old pawn shop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s...that’s not what I was asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra blushed. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, you’re not.” Crowley murmured, jumping off from the monkey bars. He contemplated his options before settling for the merry-go-round. Grabbing Ezra’s arm, he led him onto the platform, taking a seat on a grizzly bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Why d’you always pick the elephant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra continued to redden. “I dunno - they’re wise, I suppose,” he smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes before looking up. “Crowley?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Mhm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Why don’t you take off the glasses? It’s dark out now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley glanced up at the moon and then at his friend. “I hate the way they look.” Ezra sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Before Crowley could protest, he reached out and pulled the glasses off. His amber eyes, although unusual, shone beautifully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sheepishly, Ezra handed them back to him before turning away. “Sorry. I don’t know what got over me. Did you, er, want to talk about something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, yeah. That. Listen, Freddie and Ligur - they want me t-to do something. That while I don’t agree with, might...benefit us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra suddenly spun around. “Is it illegal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra turned away again, his eyes fixated on a broken down see-saw. “I don’t want you doing it, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, what the bloody hell do you know?” Crowley shot back, getting up from the bear. Ezra got up too, his eyes bleak and misty. “Plenty - I know that if you keep hanging out with them, you’re going to end up like...like..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Like what, angel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Like rubbish, that’s what.” Ezra rubbed his eyes. “I told you I worry and now you’re going out an-and </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdering</span>
  </em>
  <span> people!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley rolled his eyes. “Keep your voice down. I’m glad you think so highly of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra shook his head. “What am I supposed to think, Crowley? You’re acting….evasive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, and? I’m trying to help you out, here, angel, but you aren’t catching on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Help me out</span>
  </em>
  <span>? With what?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, I’ll get more information out of Freddie Monday, but it involves money and liquor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What about the girls?” Ezra asked, crossing his arms. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What girls?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Freddie’s schemes - he always gets girls too, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er..ngk..yeah.” Crowley mumbled. “All the girls..in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m surprised you’d forgotten that,” Ezra teased. “What, with all of your girlfriends lining up around the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Now it was Crowley’s turn to blush. “Uhm..yeah. About that, Ezra-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Abruptly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don Giovanni</span>
  </em>
  <span> interrupted him. Ezra, remembering his bag, groaned. “Sorry, that’s probably my brother calling. He’s supposed to be home from uni soon, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley nodded. He did know. He just didn’t understand. Ezra pulled the phone out and flipped it open (God, it was as if 2007 had left him behind) and began talking rapidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Calm down, Isaac, I can’t understand you - hold on, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra listened for about twenty seconds before he nodded and numbly shut the phone without saying goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What did he want?” Crowley asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra bit his lip. His face was drained and paler than ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-it’s my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley grabbed his arm. “Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What - Crowley, where the hell are we going - what about your bike?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’ll be faster if we walk. The hospital isn’t far, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra stopped for a moment. He’d grown unsteady and had to lean on Crowley for support. “How did you know?” He rasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Because…” Crowley shook his head. “It’s just...I just have experience, alright? Now come on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He extended his hand, and, reluctantly, Ezra accepted it. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope this isn’t too angsty?? Anyways, enjoy! Kudos + comments are always appreciated. Thank you :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Doctor Robert</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> It didn’t take long for them to get to the hospital. Crowley checked in for the both of them as Ezra stalked the hallways. When he was finished talking to the woman at the front desk, he grabbed the blonde’s arm.</p><p> “Come on angel.”</p><p> “Where are they?” Ezra asked, his voice incredibly husky. Crowley chided himself for finding it kind of attractive, especially <em> now </em>. He grimaced as he guided him up the stairs. It would allow them more time together before it would inevitably go to shit.</p><p> <em> It always does </em>, he thought sourly. He stopped Ezra at the top. “Just...just know that I’m here for you, alright?”</p><p> Ezra nodded, and reached for his hand, but it was too late. Crowley was already out the door, searching for the room number. Frantically, he waved down a nurse. </p><p> “Hello,” she said cheerfully. “My name’s Carmine - are you looking for a family member? A room, perhaps?”</p><p> “Yes - that,” Ezra panted. He had forgotten how tiring the stairs were. He was also a bit worn out. Something told him it was the last twenty minutes of aching anxiety that had done him in. “Please, just tell me where my parents are.”</p><p> “Ah, last name?”</p><p> “Fell,” Crowley cut in, patting Ezra’s shoulder. “Their first names, Angel?”</p><p> “L-Lillian and Jason,” Ezra stammered nervously. “Please, what room? Can you tell us?”</p><p> Carmine thought for a few seconds before replying. “Oh..yes. I-I do know what room..” she got a closer look at Ezra and paled. “A-are you the son, perhaps?”</p><p> Ezra nodded. “Yes.”</p><p> “I-I don’t know if I can actually allow you in, yet.”</p><p> Ezra broke away from Crowley and edged closer toward the woman. “Miss, I need you to let me in or so help me <em> God </em> I will raise Hell.” Crowley laughed nervously and pulled him back. “Sorry about that. He’s a little...uh..stressed. If you could try to at least get us in there, that would be great.”</p><p> Carmine, eyes having grown wide in fear, nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” and she noiselessly walked away.</p><p> “What the bloody hell was <em> that</em>?” Crowley asked. </p><p> Ezra blinked. “I don’t know…” He was on the verge of tears. “I-I’m sorry, Anthony. I-I didn’t mean to do it, I-I’m just so scared, and-”</p><p> Crowley wrapped his arm around him. It wasn’t sexual or even very romantic; in fact, it was almost kind of awkward - but it was the gesture that counted, and it made Ezra feel better. He rested his head inside the crook of the other boy's neck and let his tears slide down his cheeks.</p><p> When the nurse came back, Crowley pretended she wasn’t there; he didn’t want to let go either, but grunted when he sensed a crowd beginning to form. Embarrassed, Ezra lifted his head and wiped at his eyes. </p><p> “I think I can get you in,” Carmine said shyly. “Follow me, please.”</p><p> Crowley turned away from Ezra as they walked down the dimly lit halls. He didn’t want the other boy to see the blush that was creeping onto his face and down his neck. He shoved his hands into his pockets but walked slowly to allow Ezra to keep up at the same pace. When they came to the door, they stopped and waited for Carmine to signal something to a doctor.</p><p> She unlocked the door and let the two boys inside, silently shutting it behind them as she flicked on the lights. Suddenly, they both realized how late it was.</p><p> As they adjusted to the light, Ezra immediately pointed at the bed next to his mother’s. “Wh-where’s my dad?”</p><p> Carmine bit her lip. “Honey, the doctor is going to come in here very soon and have a talk with you-”</p><p> “N-n-no..” Ezra whimpered, forcing himself to stay standing. “I-I know where you are going with this - just please, don’t say it.”</p><p> Carmine didn’t speak for a moment, but after a minute agreed. “Alright. The doctor will...allow you some alone time. He’ll be in to check on you all momentarily.” And the door shut, leaving the three of them alone. Without a word, Ezra stole away from Crowley and approached his mother’s bedside. </p><p> “Mama?” He traced the outlines of her face, the upturned nose, her chin that wasn’t his - it was all so familiar, yet foreign; banadages coveraged where her mole would be and her forehead had a scrape that appeared fresh. His mother groaned, her eyes fluttering open. She sat up and, startled at the emergence of Crowley.</p><p> “Who are you?” She sneered, then moaned as she felt a stinging pain in her back. “Damn…” she turned and gasped at the sight of her son. “Ezra?”</p><p> “Hi, mama. Sorry I woke you.”</p><p> Mrs. Fell sighed. “It’s alright. I’m in the hospital, aren’t I?”</p><p> Ezra nodded. “Isaac said he got a call saying you were in an accident but couldn’t make it in time - so I decided to come up.”</p><p> She raised an eyebrow. “Why were you out again?”</p><p> “I-I thought I told you. The Connors? I’m sure I mentioned that they invited me over last week…” he shrugged off the thought when he noticed his mother looking around the room. “What is it?”</p><p> “Y-your father,” she spoke anxiously. “Is he alright?”</p><p> Crowley, already aware that Ezra was not going to take the socially acceptable route, hurried to her other side. “Don’t worry about that now, ma’am. Get some rest, you’ve had an...er..long night.”</p><p> She yawned. “I suppose you’re right. Wait - who are you again?”</p><p> “A work partner,” Ezra chimed in nervously. “T-that’s all, mama.”</p><p> After seeming to accept that answer, she drifted back to sleep. Neither boy left her side until the door opened and the doctor walked in.</p><p> “Fell?” He asked, looking over his notes. Ezra got up and nodded. “Yes, that’s us, sir.” The man looked to Crowley. “Say - you look familiar…” the man shook his head. “Never mind me - I’m getting old,” he laughed, but it as if all the life had been sucked out of the surrounding area. “I take it you are the sons?”</p><p> Crowley shook his head. “No - I’m his...what did you call it, angel?”</p><p> “Work partners,” Ezra said, almost cheerfully.</p><p> The doctor nodded. “So...coworkers.”</p><p> “No, we don’t have jobs.”</p><p> The doctor waved his hand as he examined his clipboard. “I’ll never understand you kids these days...Ezra, yes?”</p><p> The blonde nodded.</p><p> “I need to have a talk with you. Outside, please.” There was nothing in his voice - not a single drop of emotion. </p><p> Crowley only shot him one last pitying glance before the two left the room, leaving him with Mrs. Fell and a rack of magazines.</p><p> He opted for the magazines. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*I DID NOT WRITE CARMINE IN CHARACTER* I’m sorry, but it’s 2 AM and I’m creatively drained. Anyways, I was so strapped for names I literally stole one from the show lmao. Anyways, let me know if you enjoyed this. I wasn’t planning on this getting so dramatic but then I realized that this would have to be or else it wouldn’t work. </p><p> </p><p>Also PS the doctor isn’t named Robert, it’s just the song name ;D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Help!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I hope you have the song stuck in your head now.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doctor had explained it clearly.</p><p> Jason Fell had suffered from a coup contrecoup injury, and died just moments after that. Lillian Fell only experienced a minor shoulder fracture.</p><p> The day before the funeral, Crowley managed to sneak out of the house. He’d always worn black, but this time he made sure to comb back his hair and scrub his face. He didn’t have many <em> fancy </em> clothes, and decided that once he got the money he’d buy himself a whole closet of them. </p><p> Desperate, he sneaked into his parent’s bedroom and opened up the bottom drawer of a large cabinet that sat in the corner of the room. He pulled out a women’s black dress shirt and sighed. He wondered if it was creepy to put on his mother’s shirt.</p><p> “She’d say that I should go for it,” he whispered to himself, to nobody in particular. “Because…”</p><p> <em> Because your happiness is worth it </em>, he heard her say. He grinned and pulled it on, remembering to cuff the sleeves. He strolled back into his bedroom and rummaged through his desk before he pulled out a long, slinky chain necklace. He clipped it on and added some rings; but something was still missing.</p><p> Suddenly, it clicked.</p><p> Carefully, he plodded down the hallway, listening for his father; when he didn’t hear him, he walked out the door and then behind the house. </p><p> “God, none of it really fits, does it?” He murmured as he browsed his options. In one swoop, he gathered lilacs and marigolds and a few ferns in the hopes that it would like a somewhat-respectable bouquet. </p><p> He hopped on his bike, not looking back once. Within a matter of minutes, he’d arrived at the Fell residence and could see Ezra sitting in his usual spot under the large apple tree.</p><p> “Ezra!” He called, throwing his helmet to the side as he leaped off the bike. “I’m here!”</p><p> Ezra jumped up from his spot and hurried over to him, practically melting in his arms. “Crowley,” he whispered. “Remember?”</p><p> Crowley blinked, and, upon realizing where he was, took a step back. <em> Right, </em>he thought miserably. <em> Here I don’t even matter. </em>He dug the now crumpled bouquet out of his (fake) leather jacket and tossed it to the other boy. </p><p> “Sorry, m’not good at this kind of thing.”</p><p> Ezra sniffed. “I-it’s lovely, dear. Thank you.”</p><p> Crowley bit his tongue. “How are you, er...doing?” <em> Shit. Of course he’s not doing well, you stupid idiot! </em>Ezra smiled, but Crowley could see unhappiness reflected in his eyes. They were dark grey, like a brewing storm - it just wasn’t like him.</p><p> “I’m doing well,” Ezra said stiffly. “Listen, the Connors are going to drive me over there - my mum isn’t due home yet, and I-” he trailed off, his voice wavering. He lifted the bouquet to his noise and inhaled the scent, sighing. “I just don’t want there to be any...problems.”</p><p> Crowley caught on immediately. “Do you want me there or not?”</p><p> “Excuse me?”</p><p> “I said, do you want me there or not,” Crowley repeated. It wasn’t a question, really. More of a statement that had to be said. And what was worse, was that he already knew Ezra’s answer.</p><p> “O-of course.”</p><p> “Then fucking throw me a bone here, Ezra,” Crowley shot back. He watched as Ezra began to crumple, like the bouquet that rested in his hands. “Look...I’m sorry, angel, I..I just want to be friends, y’know? I want...I want to be here for you, right <em> now.</em> I don’t want to just hide away and pretend we don’t know each other.”</p><p> Ezra didn’t respond. His fingers kept outlining the folds of the flowers, mesmerized by their beauty.</p><p> “It’s been seven years.”</p><p> “I know, Crowley.”</p><p> “Then-then what the bloody hell are we doing?” Crowley hissed.</p><p> “Is this guy bothering you, Ezra?” A voice called. Both turned, a little surprised (if not annoyed) to see Micheala Connor standing there, a hand on her hip. When they didn’t respond, she continued to scrutinize them. “I didn’t know you guys were even friends..” </p><p> “I-it’s not like that, Micheala, I swear,” Ezra stammered. “Trust me, alright?</p><p> Micheala laughed. “It’s not that bad, Ezra.” She made a cross signal and motioned zipping her lips closed. “Your secret is safe with me.”</p><p> “Yeah, uh, it’s not really a sec-” Crowley began before he felt Ezra’s elbow dig into his stomach. “Are you ready, Micheala?” Ezra asked.</p><p> She nodded and turned to point at her house. “Mhm - Gabe is coming out in just a second.” She gestured at them nervously. “You’d better get out of here - what was your name again?”</p><p> “Crowley.”</p><p> “Funny name. Anyways, my brother doesn’t li-” she stopped, frowned, and, after having judged Crowley’s expression, guessed he was used to it and kept talking. “He’s just in a bad mood today, so I wouldn’t want to be around, if I were you.”</p><p> Crowley stared back at her incredulously. “<em>He’s </em> in a bad mood? What about Ezra?”</p><p> Micheala only stared back before she realized what he’d meant. “Oh, right, sorry. How are you, Ezra? Feeling okay?”</p><p> “Best I can,” Ezra muttered. “It’s going to be a long day, isn’t it?”</p><p> Crowley wished to reach out and grab his hand, but stopped himself. He didn’t need one of the Connors spreading rumors about him, even if they were technically true. </p><p> “I’ll see you later, alright?”</p><p> Ezra opened his mouth to protest, but shut it when he saw Micheala’s hawk like eyes dart between them. “S-see you later.”</p><p> Micheala waited until he’d gotten back on his bike before linking her arm in Ezra’s. “Come on. The reception is going to be <em> at the church </em> - it won’t be so bad!”</p><p> Ezra sighed and sent a prayer of his own up to God, even though he knew it wouldn’t be heard.</p><p> It was going to be a very long night indeed.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I went back and looked through this chapter and realized that I should probably stop writing at 3 in the morning</p><p>“He smelled the scent, sighing at the scent.”</p><p>That should tell you everything lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Think For Yourself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ezra finds help from an unexpected corner...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The service was unbearable for Ezra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He hadn’t expected so many people to show up, even if they were there by association. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> But he didn’t know what was worse - the fact that almost every friend of Gabriel Connor had come, or that people constantly came running to him, telling him how sorry they were for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra hadn’t been entirely bothered by it, at first; he knew the pain firsthand, and had dealt with it best he could. But after the sixth person told him how sorry they were for his loss for the sixth time, he was done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> After some woman from Colorado began telling a story about how she’d met his father at her ranch, he slipped out of the church and outside the doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley?” He whispered, wondering if he’d decided to come after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He slumped down on the steps and let a few tears slide down his cheeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good Lord</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought miserably. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going crazy - over Crowley, of all people! We’ve known each other for years, and..and…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “What are you doing out here, Ezra?” A voice hailed from behind him. Startled, Ezra turned and saw Gabriel walk out from a tall tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Nervously he stood up, fumbling with the ends of his shirt. “I didn’t see you there, Gabe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>answer</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-I’m sorry,” he replied meekly. “I guess I’m just a bit emotional, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel nodded. “That’s understandable, I suppose. I don’t see why you’re out here alone, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, I’m not alone now,” Ezra smiled cheerfully. “Come on, we can sit and talk-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel waved his hands. “I’d rather not. I have to do something with the church after the cleanup is done for the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra perked up immediately. “Do something? Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel grinned wolfishly. “Oh, you know. Just hanging out, reading, that kind of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded. “Oh. Sounds like fun..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Want to come along?” Gabriel offered. “It’ll be a...</span>
  <em>
    <span>distraction</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you, during this difficult time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra thought it over. “Alright. Why not? It won’t hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel grinned again. His teeth were perfectly straight and white; for a moment, Ezra wondered if he was an angel. Unfortunately, the word reminded him of a certain redhead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The other boy extended a hand, and Ezra took it. They walked through the doors of the church and then up a flight of stairs. Ezra wondered where the hell the place even was until they reached a door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Open it,” Gabriel seethed, and Ezra did so, cringing at the bright light. When his eyes adjusted to the lights, he saw a group of kids from his street sitting there, some old, some young. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Many of them looked happy to see him, if not a tad concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, Ezra, you joined us!” Micheala gushed, reaching for his arm. Uriel and Sandy were there too; they all seemed...happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It was so nice of you all to come,” Ezra said softly. “I didn’t know my dad had so many friends-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We’re not here for you,” Uriel cut in sharply. “It’s Sunday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra frowned. “Er..yes, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Now, Uriel, no need to get upset,” Gabriel said, still grinning. “Ezra’s going to join us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Join you?” Ezra’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Are we playing a game?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The group laughed, and Ezra could see others in the back murmuring. Micheala shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh no, silly! You’re going to have to be inducted first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Inducted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s simple,” Gabriel explained. “It’ll help when it comes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What does?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The group laughed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know, the salvation and all that.” Uriel put in, flipping through a large book. Ezra finally caught on. “You mean...the <em>rapture</em>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel smiled excitedly. “Yes, yes! That’s it, Ezra. You’ve got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra sat down on a chair and thought about it for a moment. “I’m sorry, I guess I just don’t understand. What exactly...happens, at the, er..rapture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel chuckled and sat down opposite him. “We’ll worry about that later. What we really care about is what’s <em>inside</em>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He raised a brow. “You mean spiritually?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He ran a hand through his hair before biting at his nail. “I guess I’m just not getting it. I am sorry, Gabriel, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s alright, I can simplify it for you,” Gabe interjected. “What you’re missing is that you haven’t accepted your full potential yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “M-my full potential?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel nodded. “You’re so smart, Ezra. You have it all, you just need the resources to unlock it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Uriel pointed at him proudly. “He’s right, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel raised his hands, obviously satisfied. “Do you get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra sat in silence for a moment as several eyes watched him. “Yes. Yes - I-I suppose I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel smiled and clapped his hands happily before extending one. “Great. Do you want to meet back here, say...Friday? We can talk more about it then. We all know how rough today has been for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra hesitated before shaking it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sure, Gabe.” It was done and done.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Like a deal with the devil. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gabriel is the only character I can do this to and get away with it</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. What Goes On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley was rushing through the woods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He couldn’t get Ezra’s face out of his mind - God, it was just tearing at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why the hell did I even give him flowers? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tore through the path and managed to ride past The Dagon’s without anyone noticing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He reached for his helmet as he came to a stop outside his house, but gasped when he realized it wasn’t there. He hopped off the bike, and ran to the side of the house to the window. His face stared back at him, unnervingly miserable. The helmet wasn’t there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It must be at Ezra’s….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He parked his bike behind the back porch and walked in through the screen door. His father and step-mother were seated at the table. Trish was the first to look up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, Anthony, you’re home,” she gushed, her fake smile taking hold of her bright face. “Your father had a bit of an, er, spat earlier with the Mitchell’s n’ the, oh, Sam, what’s the little girls name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley’s father grunted in response. Crowley thought for a moment. “You mean Beatrice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, yes, her father. They said you went to the other side of town! Imagine that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley laughed nervously. “W-why would I do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Right,” his father muttered. “You wouldn’t do that. Fancy you makin’ friends with those nuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Nuts?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Religious freaks, the lot of ‘em,” his father growled angrily. He downed his coffee before slamming it down on the table. “Get me some more, Trish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She got up apprehensively. “Of course, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley cringed as his father grabbed her arm aggressively. “While you’re at it, add some Jack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Is that really a good idea, hon?” His wife asked. His father got up from his chair and pulled her arm in barely-suppressed anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know what’s best for me,” he snarled, pushing her to the floor. He turned and saw Crowley standing there, trembling in terror. “What’s with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley bit his lip as Trish stood up and quickly began brewing a new cup for his father. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Everything’s...fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His father lowered his brow. He pushed in his chair and walked up to Crowley; they were so close now, yet somehow miles and miles away from each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re lying. Where did you go this morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Trish quit reaching for the bottle of Jack and hurried over. “Now, Sam no-” Crowley winced as his father turned to hit her, his fingernails digging at the corners of her eye. When he drew his hand back, there was blood. Trish stared at it, dumbfounded, before angrily slamming his glass down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, look what you’ve done, y-you sodding-” She stopped and rushed out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley watched as his father examined his hands. He glanced at his son and frowned. “Whose shirt is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sh-shirt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He pulled him by the collar, fingering through the silky fabric before letting him go. Crowley groaned as his head hit the back of the chair. Already a lump was forming. Everything had grown a bit blurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Whose is it?” He asked again. Crowley could smell a mixture of cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. He leaned down to tap a finger against his glasses, as if he was just a doll or a toy to be played with. “Anybody in there? Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Y-yes, sir.” Crowley responded hoarsely. “It’s not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His father circled the table before running his hands through the cupboards, searching for something to drink. When he’d found it, he took a long swig and set it down. Wiping his mouth, he walked towards Crowley, his thin mouth set on his scrawny face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What are you, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wh-what do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley groaned as he felt his father kick his stomach. “Are you gay? Is that it? Do you like wearing women’s clothes?” Blood dripped from his mouth and onto the floor. He felt weak. And worse, alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “N-no,” he gasped, grabbing onto a chair for stability. A hand gripped his, skin and bones crushing his. “Let go, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His father laughed. “Look at you - begging! Did I raise a beggar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You didn’t raise me,” Crowley rasped, bracing himself for the next hit. “Mum did.” He waited, but it didn’t come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You really think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley heaved himself forward to look his father in the eye. The blood hadn’t dried yet. A cut had formed when he’d fallen. And he felt as though his stomach was tearing in two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What am I supposed to say?” He asked wearily. His father shook his head. “Clean yourself up. You look like shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He lurched forward, supporting himself on the arm of a chair. “Please, just answer me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His father turned. “Nothing. Just know that bitch didn’t raise you. I did.” Before Crowley could protest, he went on. “Without me, you’d be in the goddamn streets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley winced. “B-but….” he didn’t know what to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He pressed a hand to where he’d been kicked. His father reached for his chin, and lifted it, so he could look him in the eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You trust me, Anthony. I know what’s best for you. If I don’t do this you’ll end up like fuckin’ trash. You want that? You want to end up like the fuckin’ Mitchell’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley shook his head. His father let go, and reached for his bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m going out. You clean yourself up. You look like fucking shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley stood and waited until he heard the door opening and didn’t move until it had slammed shut. He paced the kitchen before rushing to his parents bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He knocked frantically before trying the knob. “Trish? Trish, are you in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Go to your room, Tony,” Trish replied softly. “I’m alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley lingered outside the door in awe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m entirely alone, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought hopelessly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I feel so…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sick,” he said quietly. “I’m going to go get some medicine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Trish didn’t respond. Crowley took that as his cue to leave and stumbled out the door and into the brisk afternoon air. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Medicine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, a smirk crawling its way into his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He looked behind him, and, seeing nobody watching, walked to the nearest liquor store. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When he got inside, he purused his options before grabbing a bottle of rum. He dug into his pockets and counted his money before approaching the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man accepted the money and didn’t once look at him. He scanned the bottle and bagged it up. Crowley thanked him, but before he could leave the man stopped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes?” He asked nervously, clutching the brown paper sack. The man smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You forgot your change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley breathed a sigh of relief, accepted it, and walked out, basking in the crisp air. He never knew it could be so easy...</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i swear not every chapter is going to be this depressing</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. I’ll Get You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ezra sat through breakfast the next morning in a daze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mrs. Nutter had come to take care of him while his mother was still in the hospital, but she’d decided to stay even when his mother came home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Unfortunately, her granddaughter was constantly calling her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Mrs. Nutter?” Ezra asked as she cleared their plates.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, my boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Who calls you so often?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mrs. Nutter smiled warmly. “My little Anathema.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra wrinkled his nose. “Er...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anathema</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mrs. Nutter nodded. “Old family name. You’d love her - she’s a wonderful girl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra laughed. “I bet she is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mrs. Nutter patted his shoulder. “You need to eat more, young man. You’ve had such a rough month, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra appreciated it and took a bite from his apple. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> good. He’d never really thought about it, but it was one of his many comforts. He checked his watch and sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I have to go, Mrs. Nutter,” Ezra said quickly, pushing in his chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Do call me Agnes, Ezra,” Mrs. Nutter said happily. Ezra smiled again and nodded. “Yes ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra walked out to say goodbye to his mother while Agnes Nutter accepted a phone call from one Anathema Device.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Ezra walked into English almost back to normal. A row of eyes glanced up at him as he made his way to his desk. The school had allowed him an entire week off after the accident, and he had forgotten that this was his first day back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ezra,” Micheala hissed as he sat down. “Are you alright? Everyone’s been talking about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m fine, Micheala.” Ezra began taking out his notebook but was stopped when he felt someone poking his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah. Sandy,” Ezra said, monotonous. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I was just going to ask the same thing.” Sandy replied shortly. He turned around and began talking to someone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra wondered what everyone would say if he walked out of class. He looked up and saw his teacher hovering at the front, as if unsure where to start. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hey, Uh, don’t we have a test today?” A voice called from the back. Everyone groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The teacher nodded. “Thank you, Anthony. Right, everyone. Today we’re going to be having a test over what you should have read in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goodbye to Berlin</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra turned to lock eyes with him and mouthed a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> After class, Ezra lingered around, waiting for Crowley as he always did, but today seemed to take a different turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hey, Ezra,” Uriel hummed. “Are you coming this Friday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra blinked. Then he remembered. “Oh. Right. That. Yes, yes of course. Do I need to bring anything, uhm, special?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Uriel snorted. “Only yourself. We’re only playing games, y’know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun stuff</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra smiled. “Oh! That sounds fun. What time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “After school. You can just bike over, if that’s easier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra looked down glumly. He noticed Crowley standing behind them awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “I- yeah. I’ll be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Uriel nodded. “Good. I’ll see you around, Ezra.” She walked away but stopped. “Are you coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, I just have to grab something. See you around, Uriel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra turned around, but he could see the look in Crowley’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley folded his arms. Ezra could see a bandage on his cheek, and wondered if he should question it. “Nothing. Glad to see you’ve moved on so quickly.” He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Ezra did the same and followed him as he walked out and into the cramped, flooded hallways.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, Crowley, but they invited me and I accepted. What’s wrong with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Look, Crowley, you have to tell me how you’re feeling. I’m not some...mind reader.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley kept walking. He didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra was able to stop him at the stairwell. “Crowley, answer me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley looked behind them and then back at Ezra nervously. “Really, angel. Everything's fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re lying,” Ezra said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “M’not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra gently ran his index finger over his sharp black frames. Crowley didn’t stop him. He could see clearly through them; in the light, they would darken again. He wanted to reach out, and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I have to get to class,” he said hurriedly. “Be careful, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley!” Ezra snapped, chasing after him. He grabbed him by the collar, which caused Crowley to flinch. He jerked slightly and spun around. “What?” It came out like a growl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry,” Ezra whispered. “I just feel like…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Like you’re distant. You don’t say as much - you haven’t since..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Since the accident?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You weren’t in school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You didn’t call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley bit his lip. “Sorry, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The bell rang, and both boys groaned. Crowley held out his hand. “C’mon, I’ll take you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Out?” Ezra squeaked. “Like, as in-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “As in for ice cream,” Crowley rolled his eyes, trying to contain his satisfaction. “I’ll get you your favorite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra smiled dreamily. “Vanilla with a flake,” suddenly, realization passed over his face. “Wait a minute - we’d be skipping class!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yep,” Crowley said, popping the p. “Y’know I don’t like sweet things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know,” Ezra said carefully. “You don’t. Is there a reason why you’ve had a change of heart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley shrugged. “No reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra sighed, and accepted his hand. “Alright. Let’s go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley grinned; on the inside, he was exuberant. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i feel like this song fits Crowley well!! i hope everyone is staying safe. I’m on break now so I’ll probably spend my entire week off writing, because i can’t leave my house. kudos and comments are appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Can’t Buy Me Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Someone makes an unexpected appearance.</p><p> </p><p>Sorry that was so weak.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Crowley was dumbfounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra had been talking away with the owner of the ice cream shop for at least twenty minutes. How anybody could go on for so long about how an ice cream machine works was beyond him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He reached for his wallet, but realized it wasn’t there and groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What’s wrong, Crowley?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t have my wallet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra knew he wasn’t lying, so he decided not to mention it. “No, no - my treat.” They grabbed their cups and paid, choosing to sit down at a table in the shade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra poked at the dessert; for some reason, he’d never felt more sick in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What’s wrong?” Crowley asked. He pushed his cup toward the blonde. “Want mine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra waved his hands. “No, no. I’m just...erm..nervous, about something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Gabe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded. “Yep. It’s nothing really, I’m sure, but he said something about...</span>
  <em>
    <span>finding my full potential</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and, I don’t know, I’m worried that I won’t fit in or that I’ll do something wrong and they’ll never talk to me again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley wrinkled his nose. “Sounds fishy. Plus, who cares if you mess up? Aren’t they religious? I’m sure one of ‘em will forgive you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra ignored that last part and dipped into a pocket of chocolate. “I like fish. Goes into sushi nicely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Isn’t it raw, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I think so, why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re eating raw fish, angel. I don’t see how you don’t see how that’s disgusting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra gaped at him. “It’s not disgusting! It’s quite good, I’ll have you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley mocked him, but it didn’t have its usual effect. “I’ll have you know - </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re the one who’s stupid enough to go hang out with Gabriel and his lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was a very long, aching pause before Ezra lowered his head. “I’m not an idiot, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh come on, it was a joke!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I can have other friends, can’t I? What’s wrong with that?” Ezra pleaded. His ice cream was beginning to pool inside the cup; it ran like a river. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley shook head head. “Nothing - look, angel, I’m sorry. It’s been a rough-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “A rough month, yeah, I know.” Ezra shoved his spoon inside the watery-ice cream and groaned. “I don’t want to think about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They sat for a while until Crowley finally broke the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Why do you hang out with Gabriel, anyways?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t know - he’s friendly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He’s a bit of a prat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He’s kind, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “To </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You don’t know him,” Ezra said wearily, and threw his cup away. He glanced into Crowley’s bowl. “You didn’t even eat yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes I did!” Crowley said, laughing. “Really. I actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> like mint chocolate chip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Fine.” Ezra bit back a smile before licking his fingers, trying to get the last bit of chocolate off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley looked down shyly, sneaking quick glances at the other boy before clearing his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No need for this to get out of hand. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Do you want to do anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra thought for a moment. “What about you? Isn’t there something </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> like?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley sighed. “Not really.” Ezra was just too pure; he was always thinking of someone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded. “What about a bookshop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley groaned. “It’s not gonna be one of those smelly old boring ones, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well...yes, kind of,” Ezra said sheepishly. “But I don’t find it boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley smirked. “Yeah, sure, angel.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever you want. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> They walked into the bookshop, hand in hand (though they weren’t exactly aware of it) and immediately Ezra had brightened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, Crowley, isn’t it lovely?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley peered down the corner. “Do you know the owner here, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra laughed. “No, my parents never let me in here, said I needed to ‘harness my energy somewhere else’...whatever that means.” Ezra looked down at his feet for a moment before a tall, sour looking gentleman appeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hullo,” he said. His voice was gravelly, and neither boy could place his accent. Scottish, maybe? “Are you lookin’ to buy a book or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra dug around in his pockets, then thought better of it. “What are your prices, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man laughed, but it was choked. “Depends on wot you got, laddie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra handed him what he had. Crowley’s jaw dropped. There was at least 100 pounds there. “What, are you planning on skipping town?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man counted the money, half amused by the boys banter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “102 pounds,” he handed the money back and waved his arms around behind him. “Whole room’s yours, just don’t go touchin’ what’s in the back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What’s in the back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man pointed overhead; a sign hung with the words </span>
  <em>
    <b>Madame Tracy’s Mystical Readings</b>
  </em>
  <span> printed on it, with a hand indicating where to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That,” the man said proudly. “Among other things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What are the other things?” Crowley asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man twitched. “Nuthin,’” he said plainly. “Do you want to pick a book or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra grabbed Crowley’s arm. “Yes, yes, of course,” he paused and eyed the man carefully. “Er, what’s your name again, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man puffed up his chest proudly. “Names Shadwell,” he hesitated, for effect. “N’ that’s Sergeant Shadwell to you laddies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley and Ezra shared a look before Ezra gave him his signature smile. “Thank you, Sergeant Shadwell. It’s much appreciated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man smiled, and as the boys explored the store, he whispered to himself…</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Great Southern Pansy…” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me: realizes this is going to be extremely long<br/>also me: why not though</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. When I Get Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Ezra and Crowley had been in the bookshop for a solid two hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I just don’t see why we can’t go to the arcade,” Crowley groaned. He watched as Ezra flipped through a book and sighed. “We’ve been in here forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, we haven’t,” Ezra rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s got to be down here….” he trailed off as he walked down the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Religious Texts</span>
  </em>
  <span> aisle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What, do you need a new edition of your children’s Bible?” Crowley teased. When he saw that Ezra was serious, he bit back his laughter and frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wait - you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking for one, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “More or less, dear.” He’d begin flipping through a particularly nice edition of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Divine Comedy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley rubbed his temples for a moment. “Why is this little get-together so important to you? What can Gabriel give you that I can’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley shut his mouth, embarrassed, his eyes glued to the floor. Ezra opted to stare at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You never had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>give</span>
  </em>
  <span> me anything, Crowley,” Ezra said softly. “Isn’t this a friendship?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley jerked his head upward. “Oh, yeah, nice one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?” Ezra asked sharply, slamming the book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley watched as he slowly put the book back in its place. He reached out for his hand, but he pulled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded. “I know. I just feel like we argue so much, and...and..” Crowley waited for him to finish. “...and that we’ll stop being friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley wished he could change that word. He hated hearing it now. Friends. Of course. It’s all they would ever be - </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing more, nothing less</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I understand, angel,” he whispered. He gently ran his finger over Ezra’s hand. He shuddered at the touch; and immediately, Crowley could feel his face heating up. “Ah, angel, I, er...I gotta go.” He backed against a bookshelf and ran outside as quickly as he could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Barreling through the doors, he gasped, letting the icy air cool his cheeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, what was I thinking? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He scanned the street for his bike but groaned when he realized that it was still at the school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He turned and saw Ezra standing there, bag in hand. “Why did you run?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t think it matters, angel,” Crowley hummed, running a hand through his hair. “Really. I have to get my bike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Are you coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Are you sure you won’t run off again?” His voice was light and gentle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley laughed, but his heart felt brittle. “Sorry. Just needed air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded, but he knew he was lying by the way his eyes jumped back and forth. He wished he could just open him up… “I understand, dear. Come on, school’s out by now anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He extended his hand, and this time, Crowley took it in his without pause. </span>
</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> They didn’t race home as they used to; instead, they parted at the crossroads. Crowley pushed his bike into the worn-out shed. He checked the lock on the front door and opened it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Trish?” He called out, but got no response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “She’s out,” his father replied. He sounded gravelly. Crowley guessed he’d just had a smoke. “Gettin’ me a new pack.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley gritted his teeth. “Great, thanks for letting me know.” He walked down the hall and into his bedroom. Sleepily, he pulled off his shirt and collapsed on the bed. He wanted to sleep forever and forget the look on Ezra’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Not even ten minutes passed before the phone rang. The door flung open, his father waving the phone manically. Surprised, Crowley lifted himself off the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s for you,” and he threw it towards him. He caught it, but waited until his father left before he spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “H-hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Issat you, Tony?” A snide voice replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ligur,” Crowley muttered. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Freddie, that’s what. He’s got himself into a...a…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Jam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur grunted in response. “He’s in a detention hall now. Might not get out for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley excitedly edged out of his bed. “W-what? Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anyways, I was callin’ to ask when you wanted to...you know...get on with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It- ah. That.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You still have it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Have what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “T-the gun, you bloody idiot!” Ligur hissed. Crowley laughed weakly. “Uh-huh. Sure do. Right around her somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Good. We’ll have to postpone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley thought for a moment. “For how long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “As long as he’s in there n’ we’re out here. Unless you wanna...break him out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “N-no, that’s fine. Uhm...what is he in for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was a loud noise on the other end. “It depends on who you ask,” he finally answered. “Annie and Beatrice think that he was trying to get some liquor and got figured out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But what do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> think?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur cackled. “I think he’s a nutter. Bye, Tony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, yeah. Bye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley hung up the phone and numbly walked outside. He walked behind the back porch and into the surrounding woods. He counted the steps and stopped when he got to 28. Then he began to dig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He breathed a sweet sigh of relief when he could feel the cool metal against his skin. He pressed the dirt back inside the newly dug hole and stared back at his handiwork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Something didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t the way the hole looked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Freddie would never get himself into a center like that. He’d never let it happen - it doesn’t make sense. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley knew Freddie wasn’t exactly sharp, but definitely not stupid. Dull, maybe, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head and walked back inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m just paranoid, that’s all...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>it dawned on me that freddie was supposed to be in jail like two chapters ago and I was too caught up in the drama to actually notice it. </p><p> </p><p>i regret nothing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Something</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning, Lillian Fell walked down the stairs and into the dining room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “M-mum!” Ezra jumped out of his chair and offered it to her, but she waved her hands. “No thank you, Ezra. Agnes, do you have any coffee ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Aye,” she said proudly, motioning to the kettle. “I’ll fetch you a cup miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ezra,” his mother said carefully. “I have some things I want to discuss with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra flipped open his phone and then glanced up at his mother. “Now? I have to get to school, mum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She shook her head. “No - it’ll only take a minute.” Gratefully, she accepted a cup from Agnes and took a sip. “Agnes, do you want to tell her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra frowned. “Why can’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Agnes sighed. “Your mother’s not well, love. Just let me say my peace and we’ll let you be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “..Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What do you think about my niece Anathema coming to live with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra slammed down his fork and stared at the two women. “A-are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I don’t even know her - mum, you can’t be serious - not </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Lillian Fell sighed. “I’m sorry, Ezra. But Agnes has become part of our family, and Anathema is supposed to come abroad anyways - well, I don’t know, I thought it was a good idea. I’m sorry if you don’t think so, Ezra, but she’s young and you could help her get acclimated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Acclimated?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “She’s American,” Agnes explained. “A bit, erm, out of touch with how we do things, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And it’s not like she’ll be moving in immediately- it won’t be for some time, you know.” Agnes nodded seriously. “That’s right, Ezra. She still has to finish middle school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra thought it over and nodded. “Alright. I’ll give her my room and take Isaac’s old one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His mother smiled. “I knew you’d be accommodating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra checked the time on his phone. He gathered his dishes, pushed in his chair, and kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’ve got to go. Bye, mum - Agnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Once outside, Ezra hopped on his bike and rode to school. As he stopped outside the library, he recognized Crowley’s bike in its usual spot and breathed a sigh of relief. He was ready to race towards the mystery section after he’d opened the door but stopped when he heard Crowley’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was apprehensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m telling you, I don’t steal - not books, at least-” there was a long pause before he spoke again. “Look, whatever it is, I don’t have it. I’m sorry.” He waved to whomever he’d been speaking to and turned the corner where Ezra had been standing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, what do <em>you</em> want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra clung to the strap of his bag, his eyes fixed to the floor. “I’m sorry, Anthony. I overheard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “How much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Only the last part,” he said softly. “Look, did you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley’s eyes flashed. “You think I did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, but I’m asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley hesitated for a moment before sagging. “No. No, I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Who was accusing you? The librarian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley nodded. “Yep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “B-but why - what exactly does she think you stole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley shrugged. “I dunno. Some yearbooks, stuff from the archives. I guess I’m an easy target because I come in a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Archives from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>school</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Bingo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Why would anyone want to steal those? They can’t be worth much at all…” Ezra contemplated it, his brows closely knit together. “It doesn’t make any sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, what could you even do with a yearbook from like fifty years ago?” Crowley wrinkled his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra frowned. “Sell it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “There’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>market</span>
  </em>
  <span> for that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “There’s a market for anything, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley rolled his eyes. “Well, whatever it is, I don’t have them. They can shove them up their-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Shh!” A girl hissed from behind a shelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley grumbled but lowered his voice anyways. “They can shove it up-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I think that’s enough, dearest,” Ezra said nervously. He peered through a gap in the shelf and saw a pair of brown eyes looking straight back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er, sorry for that, we’ll try not to bother you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The girl rolled her eyes and walked around the corner to face them. “It’s not that - people listen, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley folded his arms. “Listen? What kind of pot are you smoking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The girl frowned. “What does pot have to do with anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley thought about it. “I dunno, but y’know, when you say people are listening that kind of makes me wonder-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What my good friend is trying to say is that, er, it’s a bit odd, that’s all.” Ezra shot a glare at the redhead before smiling at the girl. The girl held out her hand, and, reluctantly, Ezra shook it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Libby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ezra Fell - and Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley grabbed her free hand and began shaking it too. “Anthony J. Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Libby squinted. “What does the J stand for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er...I’d rather not get into that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Libby shrugged, although it was a bit difficult because both boys were still shaking her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s alright. My middle name is Broomhilda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley paused shaking her hand. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Broomhilda</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah,” she spoke sourly, as if she knew how stupid it sounded. “You guys can let go now, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Both stared at their hands and meekly let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er, what was it about listening, exactly?” Ezra asked, deciding to change the subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ve got a conspiracy theory going around about the school,” Libby said quietly and quickly. “That people are </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening</span>
  </em>
  <span>. On </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> sides.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sides? Who said anything about sides?” Ezra chuckled anxiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know. Cliques and things. Our school has lots of them, haven’t you noticed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, we hadn’t,” Crowley said flatly, and turned to see Ezra blushing and looking down at his shoes. “So. Any proof?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Libby nodded. “Oh yes. Lots. I have a list, too, of who I think is collecting information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I asked for proof, little girl, not a list.” Crowley snarled, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>s’</span>
  </em>
  <span>s becoming more pronounced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m like two years below you. And I’m not even short,” Libby retorted. “Whatever. I guess you don’t care about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>yearbooks</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra suddenly lifted his head. “Wait - yes, we do!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Libby smiled. “I thought so. Alright, so I think that there’s a specific event that happened right here fifty years ago that could potentially be important to..certain people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re insane-” Crowley began, but Ezra elbowed him. “Do go on, Libby,” Ezra prodded. “Who exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> it benefit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Don’t mind me saying this, Ezra, but I think it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> lot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “My - </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> lot?” Ezra asked incredulously. “I don’t believe you, Libby - I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>? They wouldn’t steal from anybody - definitely not the school. I’m sorry, but Crowley’s right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t think any silly yearbook would help any of my friends anyhow,” Ezra went on. Both Crowley and Libby could tell he was obviously offended. “So take your conspiracy theories and push them aside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, that’s one way of saying it,” Crowley muttered. “Look, Libby, we’re sorry, but I don’t think any of that muck is going to help anybody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Libby stared at them before shaking her head. “You guys really don’t believe me, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra and Crowley looked at each other and then her. Their faces said it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Whatever. One day you’ll know I’m right.” She waved her hand and stormed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That was weird,” Crowley turned and saw a shocked look on Ezra’s face. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley - what if I did the wrong thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley reached for a book off the shelf before flipping through it. He wanted to take Ezra in his arms and console him; but he felt like everything was pulling him back. “Here,” he said, handing him the book. “I wouldn’t worry about it, angel. I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But what if she was right? What if I was mean to her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel, I don’t think a conspiracy theorist is going to solve our problems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But, Crowley, what if I hurt her feelings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, who cares about that?” Crowley snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ezra whispered, and pulled him aside. “I have to go to class. I’ll talk to you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley watched as the blonde walked out of the room, and then glanced down at the floor. The book he’d given Ezra sat there, seemingly untouched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He picked it up and opened it. There was a post-it note stuck on the title page; the handwriting was Ezra’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know you hate celebrating it, but </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanted to let you know I care</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Happy Birthday </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Crowley grinned. He tore the post-it from the page and stuffed it in his pocket, a new spring in his step.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy (belated) birthday to our lovely David Tennant!<br/>(yes, I did this on purpose)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Love You To</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ezra eyed the doors of the looming building ahead. There was a sign that read:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Go up the stairs and take a left</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “Right,” he said to no one in particular. He went up the stairs and took the left and found himself standing outside the same door he’d walked through only a few weeks prior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He tried the handle (which gave way instantly, as old doorknobs often do) and walked inside. The room was dimly lit and felt….different this time. Chairs lined the room; at least a dozen people were there, and every few moments you could hear a pencil scratching a legal pad or a page being turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “H-hello?” He called. “Gabriel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah, Ezra - you’ve joined us,” Sandy Murphy said in a hushed tone as he scrambled to meet him. “Do be quiet though, we’re reading at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, I love reading - what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sandy smirked. “Nice catch, Gabe. You didn’t tell him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel lifted his head. “No. I didn’t.” His voice was terse. Sandy squinted at him, then at Ezra. “Well, am I gonna do it or-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel shut his book sharply. “I’ll take care of it, Sandy. Get back to your readings. You know what happens when we all get behind, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra blinked. “What happens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The pages stopped turning. Ezra could hear the shift in their chairs as every pair of eyes turned to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, don’t worry about it, Ezra,” Gabe said calmly as he got up to greet him. “Everyone, get back to your books. I’m just talking to our friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Am I too early? I hope not, if you aren’t done yet-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabe waved his hands. “Oh no, we’re just getting started. You can sit next to me, and we can talk, if you’d like.” Ezra smiled. “That would be lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabe snapped his fingers, and suddenly, Micheala hurried over, pencil and paper in hand. “Yes, brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Get another chair for Ezra, sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra frowned. “I’m sorry, am I missing something? You two never…” he trailed off when he noticed Gabe and Micheala staring at him blankly. “Er...nevermind.” He followed Gabe and sat down in the chair Micheala had brought, watching in awe as everyone else continued to read diligently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “My, it must be something good! Pratchett, perhaps?” He commented, hoping Gabe would smile. Unfortunately, he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Was that a joke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Um..what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You heard me,” Gabe said tersely. “Are you joking about this?” He said again, stabbing the thick book that lay between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I can assure you, Gabriel, really, I would never mean to insult you!” Ezra said quickly. “Please, do go on about your...club.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It isn’t a club,” Gabe muttered. “I was only trying to offer some guidance to you...to help you. Do you not like me anymore, Ezra? Is that it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, oh, no,” He waved his hands before grabbing one of Gabriel’s. “I appreciate it. Thank you, Gabe. Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabe smiled again, his perfect teeth shining brightly. “I’m so happy to hear it, Ezra. You know, it is a bit like a club, isn’t it? A bunch of friends, getting together, having fun. You like that, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded. He was smiling now, too. “Oh yes. It all sounds so nice - is everyone from school in it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was a brief period of silence before a few kids began laughing. Gabe narrowed his eyes, scanning the room, mentally writing names down. He turned to Ezra and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Not many. Just the gang and I. The rest are from Mayberry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah.” Ezra could see now that this was definitely more...inclusive than he had previously thought. “How exactly...do I join?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabe smiled. “We’ll get to that. I think you’ll do just fine here, Ezra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked up the heavy book that sat between them and examined it before handing it off to the other boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But first, we read.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Nobody in the Crowley household could seem to remember what day it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> But that was normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> On the day of his birthday, Crowley had found a piece of cake in his locker; he’d no clue where Ezra had gotten it, but he appreciated it. That was his one and only birthday present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It wasn’t as though he was unhappy about it - he’d just gotten so used to being forgotten that it felt odd to be remembered. Each year, Ezra would surprise him with something and each time it really, truly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>honestly</span>
  </em>
  <span> surprised him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m home,” he called, but even then he knew no one would answer. Wait. “Is anybody home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He walked throughout the cramped house and then double-checked each and every room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> No one was there.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>What does a teenage boy do when no one’s around? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crowley wondered. He smirked and walked down the hall toward his bedroom, but stopped when he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head and opened the door to his room. He walked over to his desk and turned on his old radio. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Might as well clean, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought miserably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And tell me how do you feel right after-all</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'd like for you and I to go romancing</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Say the word, your wish is my command</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Crowley frowned and picked up the radio. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Queen</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I thought this was the classical channel…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ooh love ooh loverboy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What're you doin' tonight, hey boy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Write my letter</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Feel much better</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And use my fancy patter on the telephone</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the classical channel. Crowley fiddled with the knobs but the channel didn’t change. He groaned and slammed it down on the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Whatever…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He picked up his clothes and loaded up the washing machine. When he walked back the song was still playing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(One two three four five six seven eight nine o' clock)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I will pay the bill, you taste the wine</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Driving back in style, in my saloon will do quite nicely</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just take me back to yours that will be fine (come on and get it)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Crowley collapsed on his bed and let the song play. When it was finished, the next song that played was one he didn’t recognize, so he turned off the radio and grabbed a blanket from his chair. He tore his shirt off and crawled back onto the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley woke up. He must have been asleep for at least a couple of hours, because it was darker outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He wasn’t in his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, am I dreaming?”</span>
</p><p><span> “About?” A familiar voice responded. Crowley jumped. “</span><em><span>Ezra</span></em><span>?” He rolled out of the bed and saw that it wasn’t his either; there were curtains on the windows and an elegant carpet on the floor. It dawned on him that he was </span><em><span>in</span></em> <em><span>Ezra’s bedroom</span></em><span>. </span></p><p>
  <span> “I-I dunno,” he responded weakly, trying to sound cool. “Uhm..Ezra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, dearest?” Ezra said again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “In the tub, darling.” There was a short pause. “Are you drunk again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley groaned. He was dreaming. And then Ezra’s words registered with him. For a moment, he wondered what would happen if he fell backwards - would he wake up and the dream end before it got good?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It feels like it, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well come on in, I’ll give you a massage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley reddened. “Uhm. Just a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He stood there for God knew how long. He felt incredibly hot and his hands were shaking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is this normal?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>He’s my best friend, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crowley thought unhappily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is so wrong - why is this happening?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He noticed suddenly that he was wearing a robe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve never worn a robe in my life. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He looked around the room and realized, in horror, that it was not just Ezra’s bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was his, and it wasn’t his current one. In the center of the wall, there was a portrait of him and Ezra; they were older, but they were smiling, and Ezra’s arm was around him. Below it was an expensive wood table. Crowley ran his hands along it - it felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. On it sat several framed photos. He picked one up and stared at it open-mouthed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There in the photo stood him and Ezra. They stood in front of a disgustingly expensive arbor. Both of them wore disgustingly expensive suits and shoes and both of them looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Am I really that obsessed with him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Dearest, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah. Be there...in a jiff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley caught a glimpse of his hand and gaped. He looked at his hand and then at the photo and suddenly, it clicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He walked toward the bathroom and hung around outside the frame of the door. “When did we get married?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He figured that, since it was a dream, it wouldn’t do any harm to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra only laughed. “How much did you have to drink, dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley walked in, ready to answer, but stopped when he saw his reflection. “I..I have wrinkles.”</span>
</p><p><span> “So do I, but I’m not complaining,” Ezra said. Crowley turned to look at him and gasped. “What? Is there something on my face?” Ezra joked, and </span><em><span>God</span></em> <em><span>he was winking at him</span></em><span>. </span></p><p>
  <span> “N-no. You just...you just look so good..” Crowley murmured. He tried not to look past his neck, but he could tell Ezra was watching him as his eyes traveled downwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Is everything alright, Crowley?” Ezra asked, taking a sip from a wine glass. Wait. When did he get a glass of wine?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Not really,” he said quietly. “I just feel like I’m about to lose you again, just when I’ve got my hands on you.” Ezra set down his glass and motioned him to come closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know I’ll never leave you,” he whispered. “I love you - that’s why I married, you, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley nodded, but he was more entertained by the other <strike>boys</strike></span>
  <span> man’s body. It was clean and smooth and perfect in every way. He tried to shake the thought out of his mind but he didn’t want it to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Can I kiss you?” He blurted, before covering his mouth. Ezra rolled his eyes. “We’re married, silly. Of course you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley waited for a moment. It dawned on him that he’d never kissed anyone; not even a girl. Was he supposed to?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I think I love you.” He said, blurting it out again. Wait. What? “Uhm, sorry. I just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra pulled him closer. “Darling, how drunk <em>are</em> you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Not enough,” he muttered sarcastically. “Sorry. I just feel like I’m saying how I feel and fucking everything up…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra pulled him closer and draped his arms around Crowley’s neck. “You have never <em>fucked</em> anything up. You’ve just made human mistakes like the rest of us.” Crowley shuddered against his touch. “But m’not perfect,” he murmured. “Don’t you want that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra pressed his mouth against his neck. Crowley felt like he would start convulsing at any moment if he went any further. “I just want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Crowley,” Ezra hummed, peppering kisses against his throat and then along his jawline. “I don’t want perfection. If I did, I would have married a robot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley laughed. “When did you develop a sense of humor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Whenever you started influencing me. God, how long has it been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Too long…” Crowley whispered, and lifted Ezra’s head to meet his. They met in the middle; it wasn’t extremely passionate, but on the inside, Crowley was on fire. He could feel himself edging closer to the tub. “M’gonna fall in, angel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra grinned fiercely. “Good.” He kissed him again, and Crowley could feel the heat creeping down his body. Ezra helped him undo his robe, and he watched as it dropped to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He realized that, in reality, neither of them had been naked in front of another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uhm. Do I get in now?” He shivered in the cool air and dared himself not to look down; he didn’t want to feel more self-conscious than he already was. Ezra grabbed his arm and helped him in. He gasped as he felt the scalding hot water, and flung himself at the other </span>
  <strike>
    <span>boy</span>
  </strike>
  <span> man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Whatever Ezra was going to say next was lost. Crowley lunged forward in his bed. It was over. He looked around the room, grateful that everything was still there, but groaned when he glanced at the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He wrestled out of his skinny jeans and pulled off his sheets, and spent the next five minutes taking out the other load of laundry before starting up another. He walked into the bathroom and stared at the shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He’d never actually thought about how much he’d wanted Ezra, or what could come after. He turned the water on and got in.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I’m so fucking pathetic. Why am I even thinking about him like that? I don’t have a chance…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He shut his eyes and pretended that Ezra was there, too. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I. LOVED. WRITING. THIS. CHAPTER.</p><p>Sorry for the late update! Stay healthy, guys ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Blackbird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley gets help from an unexpected corner...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Crowley got to school the next morning, the whole building was buzzing. As he walked to the auditorium for music practice he watched a group of girls hurry past him and laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He walked inside and spotted Matt, a fellow drummer. “Hey, what’s with everyone today? Who died?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Some girl is sharing a bunch of conspiracy theories online.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well...some of them...happen to pertain to your friend group.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley stared at him incredulously. “I’m sorry, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, almost everyone’s heard about Freddie getting sent to that reform place or whatever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley nodded. “So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “This girl thinks that he was framed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley laughed for a moment. “That’s stupid. Anything good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Matt winced. “I guess I should tell you now.” He peered over Crowley’s shoulder and noticed their teacher rushing in. “Come on, let’s sit in the back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> By the time they’d sat down, their teacher, Mr. Pulsifer, was already getting along with their lesson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What is it?” Crowley whispered, burying his nose in his sheet music. Matt did the same, but it didn’t hide his grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anthony...there’s a rumor going around on that board that you’re, um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “For fucks sake, Matt,” Crowley growled, slamming his music down. “Tell me already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That you’re gay, alright?” Matt spat, shoving his face back into the music. “I don’t know who started it - it just spawned from all those stupid theories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley nodded, but his body felt numb. “But what if I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Matt looked up at him in awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anthony? Anything you’d like to share?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The color drained from Crowley’s face as Mr. Pulsifer and the class turned to glance at him, their chairs making an uncomfortable freaking noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Pulsifer twisted his mouth. “Alright. Could you please see me after class?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley made a slight noise in agreement, and class went on as usual. Matt didn’t say another word to him. When the bell rang, he walked up to Mr. Pulsifer nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’d like you to start practicing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley blinked. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, I was looking back at our student files recently, and noticed that in the entry form for this class you mentioned that you used to play the piano. Is that true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley gulped and nodded. “Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Pulsifer smiled. “I thought that you could perhaps...channel your </span>
  <em>
    <span>energy</span>
  </em>
  <span> into practicing. We’ve just got a new piano in, and it’s not being used for much of anything. You don’t have to do it, of course, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Really?” Mr. Pulsifer asked happily. “You will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley grinned. “I’d love to - er - I’d be...happy to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Pulsifer motioned for him to follow and drew back a large velvet curtain. There, in the dimly-lit auditorium, sat a shiny, black piano. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Would you mind if I..?” Crowley asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Pulsifer smiled again, and shook his head. “It’s all yours.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry this was so short ~ i can’t wait to bring you the next few chapters as that’s when the story begins to heat up a bit</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Revolution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> “Schools catching on about Freddie,” Ezra murmured from his library book later that day. Crowley looked up at him wryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So...you’ve heard, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “About Freddie? Almost everyone has, dearest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh. But have you <em>heard anything else</em>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra lowered his book. “Crowley, What the bloody hell are you on about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ve just been hearing things, that’s all. About my lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra bit his lip, then shrugged the concerned expression off his face when he noticed Micheala walking toward their table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er- hello, Micheala! What a lovely surprise.” Ezra said cheerfully. “I’ll have all my passages done by tonight, I can assure you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Micheala nodded, but she appeared uninterested. “Have you been on the conspiracy board, Ezra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra blinked. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Online,” she said, whipping out her phone to show him. “They’re talking about us.” She glanced across the table and frowned when she said Crowley. “What’s <em>he</em> doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra blinked. “Oh. Oh, yes - well I don’t know him. We’ve never met before, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Micheala seemed to accept this answer. “Right. Well. As you can see, this one in particular has accused us of tampering with archival footage.” She showed Ezra, who gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Is that true?” He asked in amazement. Micheala stared at him blankly for a moment, as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Fuck, you’re stupid.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crowley could feel</span>
  <span> resentment coming off her in waves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No,” she said quietly. “No, I wouldn’t know anything.” She turned to face Crowley, who had aptly begun reading about cryogenics. “I wouldn’t stick around this one for long, Ezra,” she murmured. “He’s bad news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She gave him a little wave and walked out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra and Crowley looked up from their books to stare at each other. Their faces said it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The moment she was out the door, Micheala Connor had her phone in her hands. She sent a quick message and slid into the bathrooms as discreetly as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hullo,” the smooth voice on the other line answered. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Do you think you can...keep an eye on Anthony?” Micheala hummed, examining her nails. “You’ve got everything set up, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Of course, love. What, do you think I’m stupid? I’m doing all of this for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, but..there’s information on there. About my brother. It’s not just conspiracy theories, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fact</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s the problem - if people actually start believing that shit, the both of us are ruined and the truth is out. I have to get into a convent, Ligur, and I can’t do that if there’s...</span>
  <em>
    <span>incriminating</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuff out there. Don’t you see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Do you really want that for yourself?” Ligur asked softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Micheala thought for a while and Ligur let her. “I don’t know, anymore. I thought I did, but now I’m questioning things - God, can you believe me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Micheala groaned as she pressed her head against the cool stall door. “What are we going to do? What if everyone finds out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s nothing, darling. You know that. For all they know, it’s just a bunch of theories. It’s just enough to provoke them, but we both know nothing will come from it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Micheala laughed. “When did you become such a smooth talker, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur laughed too, but his tone was different. “I learned it from an old friend of mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Huh. You know, I feel really stupid. How could I let Gabe go and do all this shit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hey, you’re not the one running the youth group. He is. You’re just doing what you’re told. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “...Micheala?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Do you...actually believe it? What Gabe’s predicting? What that footage even holds for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What, that the rapture’s coming? That all of our work will save us? Of course not. That footage is worthless, but he just won’t accept it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ligur?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Mhm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Thanks for doing all this for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re welcome, love.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Boys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the last time skip, I swear</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>One Year Later </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span> The car had been absolutely silent for twelve minutes. Neither boy had dared to say a word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I still can’t believe you got sloshed at that stupid party,” Ezra muttered. “Do you know how dangerous all that alcohol is for your health? Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley looked up from his seat. “Nah...I’m fine, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know, it’s one thing that Annie’s family got that new house - I’m very happy for her - and it’s fine that you went to the party. But the fact that you drank yourself silly-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I drank myself...sssmart.” Crowley grumbled. He leaned back in the seat and whined. “Why can’t my car be this nice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe you could get a job, at that automobile place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley groaned. “That’s worssse. I’m 17, I should be...out drivin’ and having a great..time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra tutted and kept his eyes on the road. His car was barely used - it was his father’s. He’d bought it one month before the accident, and his mother never had any use for it. She didn’t leave the house anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Just make sure to let me know, alright? I worry, you know-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel, what’s that up..up ahead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra squinted and apprehensively reached for the brake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah - better slow down. It looks like a person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley moaned and leaned further into the leather before Ezra dragged him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hello!” He said cheerfully. It was incredibly dark. Neither of them could see a thing - and Crowley’s glasses didn’t help him much either. “Do you need a ride?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The figure stepped forward, and suddenly Ezra could make out a face. It had to be a person - a young one at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t know you,” the person said. It sounded like a girl. An American one. “May I know your name?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er. Ezra. And this is my good friend Anthony Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She nodded. “Uhm. That’s all my mom told me to say when I met a stranger...so…” she shrugged helplessly. “Are you guys rapist murderers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra gasped. “What - why on Earth would you suggest such a thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What he sssaid,” Crowley mumbled, leaning on the other boy for support. Even if Ezra minded, he didn’t protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sorry, back home it's kind of a thing to ask before hopping into someone’s car. I’m a girl, if you didn’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We can tell,” Anthony blurted out. “You..you look like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>witch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The girl laughed. “You’d be right! Well. I’m hoping to become one. My mom doesn’t like it so much, but..sorry, I’m rambling. Who are you again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ezra Fell. I can give you a ride, if you’d like. And I can promise you, we aren’t rapists </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> murderers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The girl squinted. “That name...it sounds familiar. Anyways. I’m Anathema. Anathema Device.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ana-What?” Crowley asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anathema,” Anathema replied. She wore the look of someone who spent their whole life repeating their name. Ezra smirked. “Anathema, eh? That’s rather funny…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The girl rolled her eyes. “It’s a family name. Can you fit my bike? I’ve had to ride all the way from the airport. Man, your guys town is way smaller than how my aunt described it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded. “There’s plenty of room in the trunk.” As he put the bike in, he turned and opened the door for her. She got it and hummed at the luxury of the interior. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Once everyone was settled, Ezra asked for her address. She gave it to him, and both boys began to snigger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?” She asked petulantly. “Is it my voice? Y’know, not everyone has a fancy accent like you guys.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, no, it’s not that, dear,” Ezra murmured from his seat. “It’s nothing, really. It’s an inside joke, if you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema gulped. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are they gonna rape and murder me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She decided it was best not to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel,” Crowley whined. “When are we going to my house?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That answers it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Anathema thought pleasantly. Unfortunately, Ezra could tell the alcohol was wearing off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Just a few more minutes, dear. I suppose you can’t walk home at this hour, but I do have to get Anathema home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ll walk….is my bike at your house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I think so. I hid it in the garage so Gabe couldn’t see.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema smiled. How cute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anathema, dear, it’ll be just a minute, alright? I have to drive Crowley home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema frowned. “I thought his name was Anthony?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s a long story,” Crowley muttered, clutching his head. “Sslow down, angel..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m only going at twenty!” Ezra sputtered. Crowley began poking at the little touch screen and found the rock station. Queen began to blare through the speakers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Could you turn that down?!” Anathema yelled. Ezra fumbled with the volume and luckily, it quieted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sorry about that,” Crowley hissed. “Angel, you passed your house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema furrowed her brow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your house? What about my house?! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Oh, silly me.” He backed up and then drove into the driveway before opening the trunk. He pulled out Anathema’s bike and rolled it to her, to which she gratefully accepted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema watched in confusion as he opened the garage door and switched out hers for another bike. It was all black, rusty, and had devil’s horns decaled onto the sides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Here you are, dearest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “T-thanks, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Now don’t get yourself hurt. And put your helmet on, for God’s sake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley waved half heartedly and hopped on, but Anathema wasn’t paying attention. It was just beginning to sink in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, what’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m walking you inside. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” He said cheerfully. “Do you have your bags?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh, just my backpack. Thanks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He walked up the steps and unlocked the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> And then it hit her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Agnes Nutter, her aunt, stood at the frame. She wore her old apron, and a smile was plastered on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “A-aunt Agnes?” Anathema asked, hurrying past Ezra to stare at the woman before her. “Wait - does he live here too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Agnes stared at Ezra bashfully. “You haven’t told her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra shook his head. “Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Might as well get you inside, dear,” Agnes said as she dragged them in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> After a hefty pot of hot chocolate, everything had been relayed to Anathema.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So. You live here,” she said, pointing to Ezra. “And Aunty - you and I do too, and your mother isn’t well? Did I get everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes. And no,” Ezra said. He wasn’t smiling. “My mother is just...tired. That’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Agnes stared at their empty cups. “I’ll gather these up for you - Ezra, can you show Anathema her room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes- come with me, please,” Ezra motioned for her to follow him up the stairs. They passed a couple doors before he showed hers. “This was my old playroom, but I’m not as young now, so it’s yours now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema nodded. “It’s nice. Where’s yours?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He smiled now, and pointed to the one door on the end. “That one's mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Can I see it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra blushed - not in a romantic way. Just in a I-don’t-know-you-but-this-is-kind-of-personal way. He opened it up, and immediately she gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “This is so cool - does it lead out to the balcony?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He nodded sheepishly. “Er. Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Can I come out here to stargaze? If that’s alright?” She asked excitedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sure. Your room has a door out there, too, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema grinned. “That’s awesome! You have such a cool house. Where does your boyfriend sleep when he comes over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I-I...I don’t have…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema raised her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry - I thought that he was your boyfriend, ‘cause of the angel thing..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra jerked his head up to look at her. He suddenly looked upset. “Don’t you dare tell him any of this happened, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Tell him what?” Anathema asked incredulously. Then it set in with her. “Y-you like him, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra dropped onto the bed and sighed. “...I don’t know yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What do you mean, you don’t know?!” Anathema rugged at a curl and began to pace the room. “It’s so obvious - why haven’t you asked him out yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t think he likes my kind very much,” Ezra said quietly. Anathema flopped on the bed and edged closer to him. “What? Guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra reddened. “Er- that too. It’s just - well, you see - we’re from different sides. It’s unnatural for us to be together. He shouldn’t like me. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> like me. You don’t know what could happen to him if he were to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off, his expression only the outline of a grimace. “It doesn’t matter how much we love each other, because in the end we’ll both be seperated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s horrible. And tragic.” Anathema murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ve accepted it,” Ezra said softly. “Besides, my friends wouldn’t allow it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What kind of friends are those?” Anathema bounced off of the bed, her eyes flashing and angry. “I’d say to hell with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra shook his head. He was on the verge of tears. “You don’t understand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema watched him carefully for a moment before she began to shake her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, Ezra,” she whispered, clasping his hands in hers. “I think it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> that doesn’t understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Wait</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ezra learns something new about Crowley; Gabriel shows a different side</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Ezra walked into lunch and found his table empty.</p><p> “Hey, Ezra, why don’t you come sit with us?” A voice called from behind. He spun around and saw Anathema, Libby, a boy, and a group of younger children all sitting there. Of course, there was one to many, and a chair had to be added to fit them all. </p><p> “Well, I-” he started, but frowned when he realized he didn’t recognize the boy. “I’m sorry, who are you?”</p><p> The boy smiled weakly. “My names Newt. Pulsifer.”</p><p> Ezra thought for a moment. “Isn’t your father-”</p><p> “The music teacher, yes,” Newt muttered. “Do you want to join the choral section or the band?”</p><p> “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. Can any of you tell me where Gabriel and everyone else is?”</p><p> “We told them to leave.” Anathema responded tiredly, taking a sip from her drink. Ezra’s jaw dropped. Not only had Anathema told Gabe to leave, one of the most powerful students in the school, but she was drinking <em> iced </em> tea. </p><p><em>  We live in England, </em> Ezra thought sourly. <em> It’s always cold. Why would anyone want to drink iced tea? </em></p><p> “You <em> what </em> ?!” He squeaked. “And- and they <em> left </em>?” </p><p> “Well, yeah...they did what I ordered them too, didn’t I?” </p><p> Ezra’s eyes widened. “You really <em> are </em> a witch.”</p><p> “And a good one at that!” One of the younger kids pointed out. His hair was a curly mop and his face was rather cherubic. </p><p> “What did they do to you?” Ezra asked. “They couldn’t have been bothering you-”</p><p> “They must have been, or else Anathema wouldn’t have asked,” Libby put in. “Haven’t you learned anything? You’re older than us! How can someone so smart be so <em> stupid </em>?” </p><p> Ezra’s eyes stung. That one hurt. “You don’t know me. Or my friends. They’re kind to me. They accepted me years ago, and…”</p><p> “And you’re too chicken to leave them, right?” The girl from the younger group asked. “Is that it?”</p><p> Ezra couldn’t help but gape at them. “I have to go.”</p><p> He stalked down the hallways and realized he’d left his lunch. He stopped outside of the auditorium, miserable and upset. <em> Where could they have all gone? </em>Ready to turn the corner, he felt a jolt run through his body. He pressed his ear against the door and melted at the sound. </p><p> Ever so quietly, he opened the door and opted for a seat in the back. The lights were dim and he could barely see who was at the piano. </p><p> As he leaned forward, his stomach dropped. </p><p> <em> Crowley…? </em></p><p> There, at the piano, sat Anthony J. Crowley. His hands moved fluidly down the keys as if they were made for each other.</p><p> He leaped out of the chair and walked down the aisle, the music dancing around the room as he moved. He paused at the platform and waited until the other boy had stopped playing. </p><p> “I didn’t know you played.”</p><p> Crowley jumped up from the bench, and for the first time, Ezra noticed he’d taken off his glasses willingly. </p><p> “Oh- Crowley-”</p><p> “It’s nothing - wha-what are you doing in here, angel?”</p><p> “I-I just heard the music, and came in. I’m sorry that I bothered you.” He stared in awe as Crowley offered his hand to him, lifting him up until they were at (almost) eye level. </p><p> “What happened to your glasses?”</p><p> “I...I took them off. The light isn’t so bright in here, and I don’t like having them on when I play…” he wrung his hands nervously and then glanced up at him. “Anyways, I’m sorry you had to see that.”</p><p> Ezra gasped. “What do you mean? That was fantastic!”</p><p> Crowley’s cheeks grew as red as his hair. “Really?”</p><p> He softened and lifted a hand to his cheek, a long lock curling around his finger. “Do you really think about yourself like that?”</p><p> “What...that I messed up?”</p><p> “You’re not as bad as you think, Crowley.”</p><p> The other shuddered under his touch before turning his back to him. “You shouldn’t - we shouldn’t be doing this.”</p><p> He drew his hand back. “I’m sorry. I-”</p><p> “Why did you come in here? Honestly. This is your lunch period.” </p><p> Ezra bit his lip. “Gabriel and everyone else...they weren’t there. Anathema told them to leave, and they did.”</p><p> Crowley nodded. “I thought so.”</p><p> “Dear?”</p><p> “Mhm?”</p><p> “C-can you play something for me?” Ezra asked quietly. “Something..old, maybe?”</p><p> Crowley slid onto the bench before getting up again. “Why...why don’t you sit down?”</p><p> “<em> Me </em>? Crowley, I can’t play!” </p><p> Crowley grinned. He had that mischievous look in his eyes that told him to go along with it. “Just sit down, angel. Trust me.”</p><p> Ezra reluctantly took a seat. “Okay. Now what?”</p><p> “Uhm, just find Middle C - you know where that is?”</p><p> Ezra shook his head. “I told you, I don’t pl-” his breath hitched as he watched Crowley’s hands lay over his. They were ice cold - colder than what he’d ever imagined. </p><p> “Just like that,” Crowley whispered into his ear, guiding his hands to a key in the center of the piano. “Now, I can teach you a few basic chords from here…” Ezra noticed that his hands never left his. They lay there, intertwined, and unfortunately, he didn’t want them to leave. </p><p> “You wanted something old, right?”</p><p> He could feel his mind short circuit. “Er. Yes, that’s...maybe something basic, for now?”</p><p> Crowley seemed to agree and hummed in amusement as Ezra timidly poked at the keys. </p><p> “How about A and E?”</p><p> “That..that would be fine?”</p><p> Crowley laughed. “Okay, here-and here. Yes, that’s good. You know what to do now?”</p><p> Ezra rolled his eyes. “I press down?”</p><p> Crowley pressed down gently on his fingers. He marveled at the harmony and the beauty of the sound itself, but his eyes could not leave Crowley’s hands. </p><p> “I’d never thought I’d see the day that Anthony Crowley was teaching another student!” It was Mr. Pulsifer, back from his own lunch break. </p><p> Ezra unhappily watched Crowley’s hands withdraw from his. Sheepishly, he got up from the bench and stepped aside. </p><p> “I see you two are...working well together,” Mr. Pulsifer observed, although it was definitely more like flirting than work for the both of them. He turned his attention to Ezra. “Your name is?”</p><p> “Ezra. Fell.”</p><p> “Nice to meet you, Ezra. Are you interested in joining the music program?”</p><p> “He’s not really into it, really, isn’t that right?” Crowley cut in quickly. Ezra breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. </p><p> “Well, thank you for offering, I’ll see you sometime later,” Ezra said in one breath before hopping off the stage. “And I’ll see him out the door!” Crowley supplied, and followed him down the aisle. </p><p> Mr. Pulsifer only raised a brow. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> They walked out of the auditorium and into the hallway, where they could both finally breathe.</p><p> “Thanks for teaching me the chord. You’re really talented,” Ezra said softly, but cringed, because he knew how lame it sounded. “Er- you know what I mean.”</p><p> “Of course, angel…” Crowley lingered for a moment before giving him a little wave. “I have to go back in. Class is starting soon. You know the drill.”</p><p> Ezra nodded.</p><p> “That I do.”</p><p> It pained him then, how much he wanted to reach out and grab Crowley’s hand, or pull him into an embrace. It was beginning to kill him, and it was beginning to become a fixture in his mind.</p><p> After school, he drove to the church and parked in his usual spot, happy to see Gabriel’s car there as well.</p><p> When he walked inside their classroom, he was surprised to see a drawing on the chalkboard. </p><p> “Is there a lesson today?” He asked, a little too cheery. Uriel nodded. She smiled, but her eyes were ice cold. “Gabe’s not happy. He thinks this girl at school is a witch - you should have been there at lunch today!”</p><p> “Oh, what happened?” He asked, deciding to feign innocence. </p><p> “Well..that’s the thing. None of us remember, but we all recall the last thing she said to us.”</p><p> “And that was?” Ezra hummed, picking up his Bible. </p><p> “Oh, something like: ‘I know who you are, stay away from him.’ Odd, isn’t it?”</p><p> Ezra dropped his book. “That...that is.” He was ready to rush out of the room when Gabe entered, carrying a book even larger than their Bible’s.</p><p> “Everyone, sit down. Today we have a very important <em> topic </em> to discuss.”</p><p> Ezra took a seat next to Micheala and began searching through his bag for his notebook and pen. </p><p> “Today, we’re talking about homosexuality.”</p><p> He stopped and looked up slowly.</p><p> “Now, I’m not saying that being gay is wrong. But it’s a fact that homosexuality conflicts with our true identity, and that’s in Christ. We’ve all seen the gossip boards, and you can see just how much <em> they </em> are influencing us, without us even realizing it. So that is why we need to rely on-”</p><p> “I’m sorry, what does the Bible have to to do with homosexuality?” Ezra asked quietly. </p><p> “What do you mean by <em> that </em> ?” Gabe asked sharply. “Are you implying that homosexuality is normal and should be accepted and <em> condoned </em>?” </p><p> Ezra shut his eyes and sent a prayer to God before answering. “No, I’m not implying anything. What I’m asking is clear. What does the Bible have to do with being gay?”</p><p> Gabe blinked. The others began flipping through pages but no one could find a true answer.</p><p> “Well, homosexual relations <em> are </em> depicted,” Gabe said brusquely. “By showing that they are wrong and immoral.”</p><p> He lowered his head, and thought about that for a moment before lifting his head to meet Gabe’s. </p><p> “But I don’t think it’s wrong. Or immoral.” </p><p> Gabe sighed, and Ezra could feel everyone’s eyes on him. <em> Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?  </em></p><p> “Ezra, what are we going to do with you, hm?” Gabriel asked, as if he were dealing with a toddler. “Come up, you know what to do.”</p><p> Ezra blinked back tears and nodded. He got up from his chair and pulled his knife out of the cubby and handed it to Gabriel. </p><p> “Now, we all know this is a rule. As much as we all love you, Ezra, we all have to follow the rules.”</p><p> Ezra nodded and lay out his arm on the podium where Gabriel stood. The class watched in anticipation as the taller of the two boys picked up the knife and slowly etched it into the other’s wrist. </p><p> Ezra winced in pain as the knife carefully maneuvered around a vein and then continued to dig deeper into his flesh. </p><p> When it was over, Gabe’s hands and the knife were both bloodied, and Ezra’s wrist had grown red and sore. The bleeding had subsided, and though the pain was still there it wasn’t as bad as when the knife was in. </p><p> “You can go wash up, Ezra,” Gabe said happily as he dried his hands.</p><p> “Now, what have we learned here today?”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ve learned that I hate Gabriel lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. It’s All Too Much</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Friday had rolled around, Ezra had begrudgingly gotten himself ready. He <em> had </em> been excited, of course; until Agnes had suggested he bring Anathema along.</p><p> “I’m really happy - this is my first party!” She’d said as they’d piled into the car. Ezra only shook his head, obviously annoyed.</p><p> “You’re fifteen,” He muttered. “That’s much too young, in my opinion. I don’t care what your aunt said - don’t you dare give me that look, young lady - you are staying by my side the entire time. I don’t want you getting involved in drugs, or alcohol.”</p><p> Anathema rolled her eyes. “Can I at least prop my feet up?”</p><p> “<em> What </em>?!” </p><p> “My boots,” she explained, pointing at her Dr. Martens. Before he could protest, she rested her legs on the dashboard and began angrily tying the laces up. “Goddamnit!” </p><p> Ezra hit the breaks and gasped. “<em> What </em> did you just say?”</p><p> “Goddamnit? Sorry, the knots keep coming out.”</p><p> “B-but it’s <em> blasphemous </em>!”</p><p> “I don’t see why you should care so much. I mean, don’t they hate the LGBTQ+ community? And like...everyone? I mean, I guess I’m a little biased, ‘cause I’m a witch and all, but <em> still </em>.”</p><p> Ezra wondered if hitting his head against the steering wheel would help his migraine, but decided against it and kept driving.</p><p> “I don’t want to question it,” he said softly. “Because I’m afraid of the answer.”</p><p> “What if the answer is good, though? I mean, what if it’s just a small number, and most of the time they actually <em> do </em> support them?” </p><p> Ezra’s grip tightened as he pulled into the Connor’s driveway. “And if it’s bad?”</p><p> “Then...then you denounce it? Or find a new church?”</p><p> He chuckled weakly. “There aren’t any other churches in our area, dear.”</p><p> “Oh.”</p><p> He walked her inside, and immediately the loud, obnoxious music slapped them in the face. </p><p> “It’s kind of loud,” Anathema’s arms were clutching his. “Oh my god, there’s Newt!”</p><p> He watched in horror as Anathema ran from him towards Newt, her arms outstretched.</p><p> “Do be careful, please!” He yelled, before bumping into the woman of the hour. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Micheala. Er-lovely party.”</p><p> Laughing, she poked his shoulder playfully. “That’s nice, Ezra. Hey - look - they’re playing seven minutes, you wanna come in with me?”</p><p> Ezra blinked before catching on to what she’d meant. “Oh. Uhm. I don’t know. Maybe we could just...chat?”</p><p> “Chat? You’re funny, Ezzie…”</p><p> Before he could pull her arm off of him, Sandy walked up to the front and started furiously tapping on the mic at the front. “Testing...Okay, guys. I’m subbing in for Gabe, because he’s..not here. Uh, we’re gonna go ahead and get started now. Do we have the bingo shuffle thingy?”</p><p> Uriel wheeled out the bingo cage and began turning the crane. She pulled out two slips of paper and immediately, a devilish grin took hold of her face. </p><p> “Ezra and Micheala…” she smirked and motioned toward the closet door. “You’re up.”</p><p> “Up? As in...go inside and…?”</p><p> Micheala laughed and grabbed his arm. “Come on, don’t be a pillock.” She pulled him into the closet, the door closing behind them.</p><p> “You’ve got seven minutes, starting...do you have a timer?” Sandy called from the outside.</p><p> Micheala suddenly lunged for Ezra’s arm. He jerked backwards, hitting his head against the wall. </p><p> “They must really be going at it,” someone murmured from the living room. “That had to hurt.”</p><p> And it did. </p><p> “What the devil are you playing at?” Ezra groaned, massaging his sore head.</p><p> “I’m sorry - I - I just feel a bit tipsy. And. Out of place, I suppose.”</p><p> Ezra softened. He always did around her - they’d been friends for a long time. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p> She sighed, her fingers grappling with the shag carpet. “...I guess so.”</p><p> He smiled. “Alright. Is there anything important? That you, um, need to get out first? Not that you have to, I’m just-”</p><p> “I don’t want to run the youth group anymore,” she blurted out. He gasped, and so did she. It was out in the open now. “I’m sorry, Ezra.”</p><p> “I know,” and even in the darkness of the closet they could both tell that she meant it. “But it isn’t your fault.”</p><p> “I need to tell you something. Well. A lot, actually.”</p><p> “What…? Why can’t you tell your brother, dear?”</p><p> She paused, even though she’d thought long and hard about it. “Because I’m scared to tell him. I’m scared of him.”</p><p> “There’s nothing to be afraid of - you just have to have faith in The Almighty, right?”</p><p> Micheala whimpered and pressed her head into her knees. “That’s what I mean - look, Ezra, I trust you. I don’t trust anyone else here with my stupid secrets, I just want to talk, alright?”</p><p> “...Okay. Go ahead.”</p><p> “I just don’t feel comfortable anymore. In my own skin. I don’t like the way Gabe treats me, or anyone else, really. I don’t like the way my...my boyfriend treats me.”</p><p> Ezra’s breath hitched. “You-you have a boyfriend? When did this..come about?”</p><p> “Oh, I’d rather not talk about him. I don’t feel like dragging you into anything. And it doesn’t help that those stupid conspiracy theories are always going around about us.”</p><p> “Well, it isn’t just us. There are ones about Annie Dagon, and-”</p><p> “And <em> Anthony </em>?”</p><p> He frowned and leaned forward, the light creeping in casting a shadow on his face. “What do you mean by that?” </p><p> “Nothing. I just think we could mutually benefit each other.”</p><p> He stood up angrily, backing closer towards the door. “A-are you talking about blackmail? Micheala! How-why on Earth-”</p><p> “Listen, I want a friend. You and Anthony obviously have something going on between you two. I could give you..<em> insurance </em>, as it were, and you could help me take down my brother.”</p><p> Ezra’s jaw dropped slightly. “I-I don’t believe you…”</p><p> “Yeah, but we could be great together! You, me? Eh?”</p><p> “I think you’re drunk, dear.”</p><p> “Maybe I am. But I have to get into a convent. I <em> have </em> to. I’m not good at anything else,” she pleaded, pulling into his hand. “You have to help me, please.”</p><p> “And if I don’t? You’ll blackmail me?”</p><p> “I just want help - can’t you do one simple thing for me? One?”</p><p> “But it comes with a price,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’m willing to pay it.”</p><p> “The price is that if you don’t do as I say, I’m outing you and your stupid boyfriend,” Micheala snapped. “You’ll be out of the youth group once Gabe hears about it.”</p><p> “Keep your voice down!” Ezra hissed, inching closer to her side. “Alright, alright - I’ll do it. But only so nothing bad happens to Anthony - are we clear?”</p><p> Micheala let out a sigh and nodded. “Now, just listen to me, okay? I want those rumors about us off the page. About my <em> brother </em>. And I want a confidant.”</p><p> “B-but-”</p><p> “Look, if you do that I’ll make sure that no one ever hears a word about you and...Tony. Crowley. Whatever his name is. Pages down and everything.”</p><p> “I don’t-”</p><p> “Ezra, listen to me. Right now, I’m at risk of losing any chance I have of devoting myself to the craft. I’m at risk of losing my friends. My family, for somebody’s sake-”</p><p> “Who are out right now, on vacation without you,” he muttered. “I understand, alright? I’m not dense. I just...I just wish things didn’t have to be this way. Why do those pages have to come down? They’re harmless, aren’t they?” </p><p> “No.”</p><p> “What?”</p><p> “...<em> No </em>.”</p><p> “What, is there some kind of...of illega-”</p><p> “You’ve got three minutes,” Uriel called from outside the door. Micheala lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you remember the archival footage? The stolen yearbooks?”</p><p> He squinted and tried to recall, but came up with nothing. “Not exactly…” and then it hit him.</p><p> <em> Oh.  </em></p><p>
  <em>  Oh, no.  </em>
</p><p>She could read it on his face.</p><p> “Did Gabriel….?” He couldn’t even begin to form the words.</p><p> She nodded silently.</p><p> “We’re both a bit fucked, aren’t we?” He whispered.</p><p> Right before the doors opened, she finally spoke again. </p><p> “Ezra?”</p><p> “Hm?”</p><p> “Call me Micheal, please?”</p><p> “Alright.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the story is going to go into high gear now, (more drama) and I’m super excited to write the next few chapters!! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. All I’ve Got To Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley wandered into his study hall bored and unenthusiastic. He took a seat next to Beatrice who was talking rapidly to Annie and Ligur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, hey, Tony. We were just talking about the newest couple in the school - you’ve gotta hear this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I bet,” Crowley muttered, as he flipped through a book vacantly. Beatrice rolled her eyes before poking his square in the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’ve heard of Micheala Connor, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He signaled that he had, so Beatrice took this as a yes. “She’s going out with Ezra. Ezra Fell. Can you believe that?” Startled, Crowley dropped his book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “N-no, I can’t…” he muttered. Ligur smirked. “Yeah, they’re a match made in….heaven, I s’pose. We’re all just a bit surprised, considering he’s a bloody faggot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley slammed his book on the table, causing the teacher and everyone else in the room to glance their way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Jesus, what’s up with you?” Beatrice cringed, shaking her head. “You’re acting funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, erm, sorry about that,” Crowley muttered. “Just a bit tired, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well. I for one think you need to go to a party. Loosen up,” Annie said, grinning wickedly. She reminded Crowley of an assoholic fish. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s a new one, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he smiled to himself before burying his face in his book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The rest of the group went on with their conversation, but that awful sinking feeling in Crowley’s stomach never left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Throughout the rest of the day, nobody shut up about the amazing connection between Eden Hill’s newest couple. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just fucking perfect...as if I didn’t have enough on my plate. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crowley skipped music class and decided to wander the halls. He didn’t care anymore. When the bell rang, he kept walking until he found himself in the science lab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He took a seat and flipped through an astronomy textbook before getting bored. After stumbling into a full classroom, he ran out and barreled into his Literature class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The only person there was his teacher, Mr. Tyler, who was sitting at his desk grumbling at a takeaway container.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anthony Crowley. What are you doing in my classroom at this hour? Aren’t you meant to be somewhere else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh…” Crowley tried to think of a response. He hadn’t actually thought this through, had he? “I dunno. Guess I got lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler smiled - it wasn’t the kind that radiated warmth, like Ezra’s, or one that felt cold like Annie’s. It felt tolerant. Polite. And kind. Then, that was all Crowley needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anthony, you have been attending this school for quite some time. I don’t think you would be one to get lost intentionally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah. Well. I have. Ngk- look, I’m sorry. Can I have a pass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sit down, the bell rang some time ago. I doubt a pass will make up for your tardiness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He winced, but did as he was told, opting for a seat a few desks down from the old man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So. What is on your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh...ducks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er-nothing. I guess I’m just tired, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Of what?” Mr. Tyler asked, obviously amused. “You’re young, intelligent - you have your whole life ahead of you? Why waste it, feeling tired?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I guess...I guess it’s just easier, than pushing forward and faking it. Then pretending and hoping when I know hoping is useless. Hoping will do nothing but fuel false dreams. And if I were to spend the rest of my life doing something that’s only useless, then there’s no point in living at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler sat for a moment. He wasn’t speechless; he never was. He was simply thinking of an answer, something he rarely did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “My, you’re not the little rascal everyone paints you to be. You’re rather well-spoken - say, why are you with that crew of yours? I should think that they’re a nasty influence on you, wouldn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “They’re my friends,” He said blankly. “My only friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler sighed. “I suppose my words of wisdom aren’t enough. You can go now, and join your little debaucherous gang.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, Mr. Tyler. Uh, what was that about, er…” he realized he didn’t actually have anything to say, and motioned to the only poster on the wall. “The...writers competition?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler happily stood up, ripped the flimsy sheet off, and handed it to him. “I’m glad you asked. It’s for young writers around the world - you’d do well in it, I gather, what with your natural abilities, and your overall style. What interests you, Anthony?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Space. Plants. Things like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Quick answer - I like that. Shows you know what you want. Alright - well, write some ideas down and submit a story to me by the end of this week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “E-excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I want to see your talent, Mr. Crowley. Many of us here have noticed your academic worth. You’re much more valued than you realize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You mean I’m more valuable,” Crowley said suddenly, standing up. “There’s a difference between the two. I’ll do it, but I want to play by my terms. It’ll be under 20,000 words and I want to include a bit about James Bond. Maybe it’ll have a witch, and some aliens, or the four horsemen - I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler nodded. “Sounds ambitious, but if you truly think you can accomplish such a thing I gather I can’t possibly say no.” He extended his hand, and Crowley proudly accepted. He walked away, but turned at the edge of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Thanks, Mr. Tyler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re welcome, Anthony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was a quick flash of red hair, and he was gone. Mr. Tyler only smiled to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>This should be good….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Crowley opened up his notebook and sighed. His dad hadn’t been home in two days; Trish was nowhere to be found either. When he’d checked the fridge, it was empty, and there was nothing in the cupboards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He turned on his radio, and groaned when he heard Queen play. It had been stuck on the same station for five months, and for some God-forsaken reason they played Queen nonstop. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I've fallen in love</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I've fallen in love for the first time</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And this time I know it's for real</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I've fallen in love, yeah</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God knows, God knows I've fallen in love</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He didn’t know where to begin, so he chose to write down things that he wanted to read about. The list included, but was not limited to:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Old cars</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-Rock music </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-Religion </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-Aliens </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-Witches </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-Satan</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should just stick to one genre, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he mused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How would I even write a story like that? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He leaned back in his chair and sighed, thinking of Ezra and Micheala together. In a relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Suddenly he felt sick, and then a bit angry. Why would Ezra want to go off and date a </span>
  <em>
    <span>minger</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Micheala Connor? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He got up and walked down the hall, ready to dial Ezra’s number, but stopped himself from picking up the handset. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I have to let him live his life,” he whispered to the empty house. “What am I doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He dropped down onto the floor and cried for a little while. If Ezra didn’t love him back, and he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> in love with Micheala, then there was nothing he could do. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I just want you to be happy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought miserably. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But I can’t be happy when I’m not with you. God, I’m horrible - I’m so fucking awful that I’m actually possessive of him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Fuck!” He growled, pulling himself off the ground. He stalked back into his bedroom and slammed the radio onto the ground. The music stopped playing; it was broken. “Goddamnit…” he sunk into his chair and stared at the blank pages, his eyes welling up with tears all over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gingerly, he picked up his pencil and began to write. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Ezra,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> I know you probably won’t read this, and that’s alright - I don’t care so much if you don’t, but if you do there are some things I want to tell you -</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> I don’t see you as my friend anymore. I haven’t for some time. When I think of us in the future I think of us together. I think of you and me in a little cottage by the sea. I don’t think of us sleeping in separate beds and seeing each other once a week. I see us with rings on our fingers. I see you and me as a couple. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> I know I don’t own you. You aren’t mine, and you aren’t a prize to be won. But I don’t want to share you with someone else; I don’t want to see you just twice a week. I don’t want to be just your friend. And as many times as I tell myself that you aren’t mine and that I don’t deserve to have you, I end up craving you more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> It’s obvious that you don’t see me in the way I do you; and that’s okay. But I don’t think that means that I’ll ever stop loving you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eternally (and affectionately) yours,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span><strike>Crowley</strike> </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anthony </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He heard the front door slam shut and quickly shoved the letter into his desk before hurrying down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Trish…” the words died on his tongue when he saw his father standing there, drenched from the rain outside. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s no way to greet your father,” his dad replied coldly. “Trish is gone. Went out lookin’ for her. She hasn’t turned up. Wonder where she went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley swallowed the bitter lump that had formed in his throat before saying a word. “Are...will she ever come back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His father hung his coat on the rack and sat down at the kitchen table. “Get me a beer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>get me a fucking beer!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley jumped at the noise and nodded, but having opened the fridge realized that they were out. It really was empty. “There’s nothing in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, getting up to grab his coat. “I’m going out. Don’t leave the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “There’s nowhere for me to go anyways,” Crowley mumbled. His father turned suddenly, which caused him to flinch. “You need to speak up - and don’t be such a little bitch. That’ll get you nowhere in life - you wanna end up like your mother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley gaped at him for a moment before he thought to form the words. He wondered if there was an Earthquake before he realized that he was the one that was trembling. “Don’t you dare talk about my mother that way. She was a nice woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His father grabbed his coat, knocking over the rack in the process. “You’ll regret you ever said that. You aren’t a fucking son of mine!”</span>
</p><p><span> “</span><em><span>I’m</span></em> <em><span>glad</span></em><span>!” Crowley yelled as the door slammed shut. “I’m fucking glad I’m not like you, you </span><em><span>asshole</span></em><span>!” He stormed down the hall and flung open his bedroom door. </span></p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Guess I could always stay at Bea’s house...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the story is (close to) halfway done already! can’t believe it <br/>:D thanks for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. This Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ezra confronts Anathema and Libby; Crowley realizes he has other friends, too</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ezra stood inside the school lobby. </p><p> <em> Right. </em><em>Just a quick chat with Anathema. That’s all this is. </em>He opened the doors and walked out toward the lunch tables where Anathema and Libby sat talking idly. </p><p> “Hello, er...ladies,” he said lamely. “I’m-”</p><p> “We’re not going out with you,” Libby said, daintily taking a bite from a baby carrot, (which was not an easy feat by any means) her eyes staring him down coldly. </p><p> Ezra cringed. “Oh, heavens, no - I wasn’t trying to do anything like that, I swear-”</p><p> “Oh please,” Anathema muttered, rolling her eyes. “We know you wouldn’t dream of it, church boy. What do you want?”</p><p> “Well, you could have phrased it a tad nicer, to start off with, dear-”</p><p> “Don’t <em> dear </em> me. I <em> live </em> with you.” </p><p> “Anathema, what has gotten into you?” He said, his smile wearing until it had turned into a frown. </p><p> “You’ve been acting weird since the party. And I’m mad at you for telling Aunt Agnes that I hung out with Newt.” She took a sip from her iced tea, her dark features twisted into something like frustration and resentment. </p><p> “B-but you did!” Ezra sputtered. </p><p> “Yes, but I didn’t go into a broom closet with him, did I?” she shot back. </p><p> “Your aunt didn’t seem to mind a bit,” he huffed. “Really - you act like a little girl sometimes!”</p><p> The two girls both shared an amused glance before busting out into heavy, rich laughter.</p><p> “Look, I came here to talk to you, not be ridiculed.” Anathema felt guilty then, because she could tell he had been hurt. “About what?”</p><p> “About the gossip pages - the conspiracy boards - whatever you wish to call them. About my friends. Libby, is there any way you can take them down? Especially the ones about Gabriel?” </p><p> Libby sighed. “I can take down my posts. But I doubt how much good it’ll do. I’m not the only one on that site, Ezra. Lots of kids here use it.”</p><p> Even though Anathema was only fifteen years old, she could read between the lines; her Aunt had taught her well. She could see the way that Ezra’s face fell, the way he shoved his hands in his pockets, and when he swallowed, the way his eyes failed to meet hers. </p><p> “I understand...I’ll talk to you at home, Anathema,” he spoke slowly, as if he were unsure of the words. “Goodbye, Libby.”</p><p> The girls watched as Ezra walked back inside, but didn’t speak until at least three minutes had passed.</p><p> “It’s suspicious,” Anathema murmured, occasionally eating nonexistent spoonfuls from her applesauce cup. “He’s with Micheala Connor for some reason. I asked home about it last night, and he wouldn’t even talk to me about it. Said it didn’t matter. It’s his girlfriend! Why doesn’t she matter?” </p><p> “Why?” Libby asked, genuinely curious. “Do you think that there’s something on the pages that just makes them tick? I mean...I know what I’ve posted. I know that some of its truth. But some of them are just theories...right?” </p><p> Anathema pushed aside her applesauce to think it over. “I guess. But something isn’t adding up. I can’t place my finger on it.”</p><p> “I know what you mean...Personally, I think it’s Gabriel.”</p><p> “Gabriel...Connor? Micheala’s brother? I know he’s an asshole, but what does he have to do with it?”</p><p> “I think he’s a nutter. I’ve collected all kinds of stuff about him - loads, even - and I really do think he’s crazy.”</p><p> “Really?” Anathema asked, intrigued. She hadn’t really thought about Gabriel like that. “How?”</p><p> “Eh. I think he got the yearbooks, but the rest is really just a theory. Has Ezra said anything?”</p><p> Anathema frowned. “He...goes to church a lot. Gabriel does too - all of his friends go together, like it’s some party. It’s weird.”</p><p> Libby’s eyebrows furrowed together, obviously concerned. “That-that doesn’t sound normal.”</p><p> “I know.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> Crowley kept walking. </p><p> He’d just turned in his story after three and a half long nights of straight writing and no sleep. When he did sleep, he got yelled at by his teachers, but he didn’t care anymore. </p><p> He didn’t care about anything - Ezra was apparently dating Micheala, and there was nothing he could do. Had he confused signals? </p><p> <em> It doesn’t matter now, </em> he thought sourly. <em> At least the story is turned in.  </em></p><p>“Hey, Pepper asked you a question!” A boy yelled from behind him</p><p>A group of young children had been following him for two and a half minutes. They never seemed to let up with their questioning. </p><p> “<em> What </em>,” Crowley said sharply. He continued to walk, determined not to turn around to answer the kids. </p><p>“What’s wrong with your eyes?” A girl named Pepper kept asking.</p><p>“Don’t want to talk about it,” Crowley grumbled, edging past a group of goth kids. “Don’t you guys have a class to get to?”</p><p>“It’s actually on our way here,” A boy named Wensleydale chimed in. “So it’s probably best that we follow you.”</p><p>“Yeah. Hey, if nothing’s wrong, why d’you wear the glasses?” Another named Brian asked. </p><p>“I said I didn’t want to talk about it!” Crowley snapped, turning around to tell them off, but the words died in his throat when he saw Anathema standing protectively over the group, as if she were a mother hen. </p><p>“Why do you have to yell at them? They’re only eleven!” </p><p>Crowley groaned. “Listen, book girl-”</p><p>“My name’s Anathema.”</p><p>“Same thing. I got to get to class. Sorry about the kids, or whatever.” He winced. He hadn’t meant to sound like such a jerk. </p><p>Instead, Anathema gave him a once over and frowned. “What’s happened to you?”</p><p>“What..what do you mean?”</p><p>“There’s...” she motioned for the kids to get to class, but they’d already taken the hint and were on their way. She drew nearer and squinted. “You’re eye. I know you have a condition, but...”</p><p>“But what?” Crowley hissed. “Out with it.”</p><p>“Did you get in a fight last night?”</p><p>The bell rang, and though normally Crowley would have taken that as a cue to run, he didn’t, and instead sort of stood there awkwardly.</p><p>“Sort of.”</p><p>Anathema frowned. “I only asked because I can see through your glasses. It looks really dark.”</p><p>He hoped she could see him glaring at her through the lenses, but thought better of it and drew his mouth into a thin line.</p><p>“It’s nothing. We both need to get to class.”</p><p>“Yeah...yeah. Hey, Crowley?”</p><p>“Uh-huh?”</p><p>“It’ll be black in a day’s time. Try a cold compress to take off the pressure.”</p><p>“Oh...Uhm..” in that moment, it dawned on Crowley that he’d never really gotten helpful, kind advice; except for maybe Ezra. “Thank you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Slow Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Questions arise at the youth group; Crowley begins to realize that his actions will have consequences</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> A month had passed. Ezra hurried up the stairs, took a right, and opened the all-too familiar door. He carried in boxes of donuts, setting them down on the back counter before he could scout out Sandy and Uriel.</p><p> “Ah. Ezra. You joined,” Uriel said brusquely, her shoulders back, her hands neatly folded together. She was the defining example of who should lead the youth group; in a way, Ezra felt bad, even though he knew what he would have to do. </p><p> “Hello, Uriel,” he gave her his best smile, and watched as she and Sandy took their seats, their faces suspicious and accusing. “Where is Gabriel?” He asked, taking his seat behind them. </p><p> Sandy turned, his gold tooth shining in the starkly lit room. “He’ll be here any moment. Just you wait. Innocent blood may be betrayed.” </p><p> “Inn-innocent blood,” Ezra repeated. “That’s-”</p><p> “How is everyone today?” Gabriel asked, strolling in just on time as usual. He carried his clipboard, as always, his heaving satchel hanging neatly around his neck, clean and shining as ever. “I’ll do roll-call, and then I’ll begin going over some executive orders-”</p><p> “Pardon me, Gabriel,” Ezra spoke now, trying to remember what to say. “But why can’t you take a vote?”</p><p> “A-a vote?” Gabriel asked, setting his clipboard on the podium. </p><p> “Well. Yes. I’ve just been wondering-well, it <em> has </em> been some time-”</p><p> “Out with it, Ezra.”</p><p> “I just feel that there really isn’t any need for executive orders. I mean, wouldn’t you all agree?” He asked nervously, looking around the room. Everyone stayed deadly silent. <em> Oh please, </em> he was beginning to regret talking to Micheal about this. <em> This has got to work… </em></p><p>“I agree with him,” said a small voice from the corner. Ezra recognized him - Charlie Hanover. “We should be taking votes. To...make it more official.” </p><p> “So are you challenging my authority?” Gabriel asked. His arms were crossed and his violet eyes no longer held their usual sparkle. Something had spurred from within him; a brewing anger just about to spill. “Is that it, Ezra?”</p><p> “Oh no. I would never,” Ezra said gently. “I just want our group to-oh, what was it, Charlie?”</p><p> “Make it more official,” the boy supplied weakly. Ezra smiled before quickly suppressing it. “Yes, that’s it. We could really do well, I think, if we had...everyone’s opinions.”</p><p> “And what would we vote about?” Gabriel said sharply. He had a sudden urge to lift up Ezra’s chin so he would know that he was beneath him. He couldn’t stand for this kind of behavior. “Hm?”</p><p> “Well...I-” Ezra began, but trailed off. He and Micheal hadn’t gotten this far, and he was nowhere to be found. </p><p> “What about our lessons?” Someone asked from the back. “How about times, or-” another probed, but Gabriel was already slamming his hands onto the podium. </p><p> “That’s it. Amie and James, get up here. You know what happens when you disobey. I will not stand for it. <em> God </em> will not stand for it, so you hear me? None of you are even worthy for standing in front of his presence. None of you deserve the opportunity- do you realize how lucky you all are? To have me teach you the word of God?”</p><p> The room was once again silent. Ezra held his breath, and then his tongue. <em> I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I never did. This isn’t… </em></p><p>“Fine. I’ll do it myself. I will be the bearer of your evil. You want to see what happens when you don’t follow me? When you don’t follow the word of God?” He grappled with a drawer before pulling out the slender, customary knife that they’d all grown to hate. </p><p> Slowly, as if leading some bizarre ritual, he raised his arm, sleeves already pulled up to his elbows. With the other hand, he lifted the knife, angling it just so as he carefully slid it across his wrist. He dug it into the skin, and then back and forth and his arm ran red with blood. </p><p> “He’s so brave,” Ezra heard Uriel whisper softly. Suddenly, he felt rather sick - and it was, watching a man slit his own wrists. </p><p> Gabriel noiselessly cleaned off the knife, setting it aside as if it were just an afterthought. His arm, though, stayed in the air, a silent but effective reminder. </p><p> “You’re dismissed,” he allowed most of them to leave before approaching Ezra. “Not you, Ezra. Stay, alright?”</p><p> “Of course,” Ezra murmured, pausing to finish gathering up his things. “I’ll be there in two shakes of a lambs tail.”</p><p> “Don’t rush yourself,” Gabriel said with fake pleasantness. He wiped off what remained of the blood, but his arm was still stained. Smiling, he rolled down his sleeves and said goodbye to the last few kids before he shut the doors. </p><p> “Alright, Ezra. Cut the bullshit.”</p><p> Ezra almost choked on the very air that he was breathing, but stopped himself, then noticing that Uriel and Sandy were both there, in the recessed of the room. </p><p> “Whatever do you mean, Gabe?” He said, his voice soft and mild again. </p><p> “You know <em> exactly </em> what I mean,” the other shot back, trailing his finger along the blade. “What’s with you and Micheala, huh? Going around, trying to get with my sister? I thought we were friends, Ezra.”</p><p> “We…” Ezra normally would have agreed with him. They had been friends since they were what, twelve? eight? It was all a blur to him now. But now something held him back. “I don’t think friends threaten one another,” he watched as the blade edged closer toward him, but he continued to talk. “Nor do I think that friends try to actively <em> harm </em> each other.” </p><p> The knife retreated. “I see,” Gabe hummed a melody that Ezra didn’t recognize before waving at Uriel and Sandy. “You two may go. I want to talk to Ezra alone.”</p><p> Once they were alone, he began to gather up his things. “Do what you want with Micheala. But don’t you ever try to undermine me. None of this,” he held up his bloodied arm. “leaves this room. I know everyone else in this goddamn place is too <em> chickenshit </em>. So if I hear you say one fucking word to the police, you’re dead to me and everyone else here.”</p><p> Gabriel slung his pristine bag over his shoulder and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him. </p><p> Ezra was alone again. </p><p><br/>-<br/><br/></p><p> Crowley had been staying at Annie’s house ever since Bea had kicked him out. She wouldn’t tell him why. And as pathetic as he felt, he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t have it in him. </p><p> If you were to tell Anthony Crowley that he was destined to live out in the streets then, he would have believed you, and he would have just gone on with his day as usual. </p><p> After two nights of staying at Bea’s, he was unsure of where to go next. He didn’t feel comfortable to Ligur’s. It was more comfortable than his home, but he’d never really connected with him, and that made things awkward.</p><p> So he’d turned to Annie. </p><p> She was an alright housemate. Her parents were home sometimes, but not often enough that it made you uncomfortable or worry that they’d kick you out first. </p><p> And as middle-class as Annie’s family came, they lived well. There was enough space in the landing for Crowley to sleep and enough distance between rooms that it gave the illusion of privacy, which he appreciated. </p><p> But he was still torn over Ezra. After school, he’d either go home to collect something that he’d forgotten, or he’d go to Annie’s to brood and put off doing his homework. He missed those days of constantly seeing each other, sitting across one another in the library, or seeking him out by the mystery shelves.</p><p> Secretly, he’d always wanted to kiss him there. </p><p> “Hey, do you want anything to drink? Eat?” Annie called, interrupting his thoughts. She walked around the wall and greeted him with her usual disgusted look. </p><p> “No.”</p><p> “Tony, you haven’t moved from there in like..a while.”</p><p> “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll definitely take that into consideration,” he hissed. “Why don’t you take a number and wait in line?” </p><p> Annie rolled her eyes, deciding to ignore that last line. “In a few weeks I’ll be throwing a party. Lots of people are invited. <em> Lots </em>.” </p><p> “I don’t get how you care so much about them...there’s so many people..”</p><p> “Oh, suck it up, <em> dickwad </em> ,” Annie threw him a shirt, but wrinkled her nose in disgust when she got a better look at his space. “God, do you <em> own </em> anything? I thought it would be…”</p><p> “What?”</p><p> “I...I don’t know. Messy. Like a boys room.”</p><p> He put the shirt on. When he pulled his head through, Annie was still there, hovering by the doorframe, eyeing him closely, as if he were an animal at a zoo. </p><p> “Look, I’ll be out of here in a couple of weeks - I’m working on getting a flat, an-and a job.”</p><p> “Tony…” Annie bit her lip before walking around the wall to sit across from him. He noticed that for the first time, she’d unbraided her hair, and he could see just how serious she looked, if not guarded. “Where are you going to get the money?”</p><p> He leaned back against the wall to think - even though he didn’t have to. “I don’t know.”</p><p> “You do. I can read it in your face.”</p><p> Crowley didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. “How can you tell?”</p><p> “You covered your mouth. Are you going to tell me or not?”</p><p> “I had a plan-<em> have </em> a plan. I just have to wait for Freddie to get out, and then I’ll be out of your hair, and you won’t even think of me.”</p><p> “Do you think that’ll work?”</p><p> “Huh?”</p><p> “I asked if you think that’ll work - because if you don’t, then you don’t believe in it. You know it’s doomed to fail. So why do it?”</p><p> “You don’t even know what I’m going to do,” he muttered, trying to stand up. Finally having found his footing, he grabbed his coat. “Do you even know?”</p><p> Annie shook her head, stood up, and brushed past him. </p><p> “I don’t <em> want </em> to know, Tony. All I am asking is that you trust yourself. I don’t need to know, but I guess you can’t see it the way I do.” She turned and gave him a pitiful look, like an animal watching over its prey. “Take care of yourself, alright?”</p><p> He nodded, but waited just before she left the room to say anything else. </p><p> “Annie?”</p><p> “Hm?”</p><p> “I’ll come to the party.”</p><p> She smiled. “Great.”</p><p> Crowley walked back toward the landing, and plummeted onto the mattress again, reminiscing of better days. </p><p>
  <br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ve decided to add little summaries at the beginning :) hope you enjoyed this one!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. If I Fell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ezra gets some shocking news from Micheal; Crowley attends Annie’s party</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ezra, phone call!” Anathema yelled in the early hours of a particularly blissful Saturday morning. </p><p> “I’m awake, dear!” he called back, and hurried out of his room to accept it. Without checking the caller ID, he breathlessly picked up the phone.</p><p> “Yes?”</p><p> “It’s Micheal, didn’t you check?”</p><p> “Ah -sorry, no. How are you, dear?”</p><p> “Sorry that I had to call the house, but I just had to talk to you immediately. It’s Gabe. He just told us all during breakfast that he’s quitting the youth group. Stepping down! Can you believe it?”</p><p> Ezra gasped. “Well, I-”</p><p> “I suppose you can, but apparently it just..got to him. He’s gotten a bunch of emails and texts over the past few weeks. I guess he just snapped. What was it, again - voting, right?” </p><p> “Er-yes. Allowing more of a say to everyone else. That and among other things. I suppose that one just...got the ball rolling, as they say.” </p><p> “Right, right. Well - he got really upset about it. He’s been whining all morning about how everyone’s being so mean.”</p><p> Ezra felt his breath hitch; he hadn’t meant for it to get out of hand. But...a part of him felt better. He was glad that Gabriel was hurt. And that just made him sick. Weren’t they supposed to be the good guys?</p><p> “Anyways, you’ll have to take his place. I just can’t imagine doing it myself, although it would look good on my resume…”</p><p> “Ta-take his place? You mean..run the youth group? Myself?”</p><p> “Who better?” He replied, his voice syrupy sweet. “I trust you, Ezra. I know you’ll make us look good - and I’m forever grateful to you for it. Are you up to the challenge?”</p><p> “I-I suppose so. Yes. I’ll do it. Not that I don’t want to do it, of course, I certainly don’t mind it, but I do have some concerns-”</p><p> “Great! Thanks for chatting. Talk to you later?”</p><p> “Of course. Yes…” Ezra said mildly, and laid the phone back in it’s cradle. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> It had been some time since Crowley had been to a party. He’d spent some time at home, avoided his father, and did his schoolwork. Out of the past thirty days, four of them he’d spent with Ezra. </p><p> Four days. </p><p> He couldn’t help but feel like something was keeping him apart, but he didn’t know what. The only thing he could comfort himself with was that he knew Ezra was busy, and that it couldn’t be helped, and that someday they would have to talk again. </p><p> But waiting for that day was hell, and it pained him to go on without his best friend. It pained him to admit that it took courage to say those words, but it was true; Ezra Fell was his best friend. </p><p> Luckily, he didn’t have to actually leave the house to get to the party. Unfortunately, his end of the bargain with Annie meant he had to help set it up. </p><p> “I’m glad your parents have money-”</p><p> “We’re middle class, Tony.”</p><p> “You know what I mean,” he muttered, heaving a huge speaker to the side of the room. “But is this really necessary? You have like, five fucking tables of food set up and a fondue machine - do you know how messy that is?”</p><p> “It’s three tables, asshole, and every good party ever has had a fondue machine. It’s <em> fon-fucking-due </em>.” </p><p> “Didn’t know I’d see the day when Annie Dagon and Anthony Crowley would be arguing about a fondue machine, but at least it’s free entertainment,” Beatrice declared as she walked in. Crowley groaned. She walked towards him and slapped his back as if they were old pals. Unfortunately, they were, and Crowley gave her his fakest smile in return. </p><p> “Hello, Bea. Still have that speech impediment?”</p><p> “Fuck you. Are your eyes still freakishly horrifying?”</p><p> “You’d better be careful,” he admonished, dragging a chair towards a table. “That’s not a very nice word…”</p><p> “Like I give a shit,” Bea snarled, grabbing a bowl filled with cheese puffs. Annie sighed as she stopped organizing the sofa pillows to pull the bowl out of her hands. “Hey! I was eating that!”</p><p> “It’s for the guests, not <em> you </em>,” Annie quipped. “Did you invite anyone fun?” </p><p> “Aren’t we any fun?” Crowley asked, hopping onto the couch. “When do the people show up?”</p><p> “In, like...an hour, maybe?” Annie replied, folding her arms. “Why?”</p><p> “I was just wondering. Do you have a telly I could watch?”</p><p> Annie pointed to the flatscreen on the wall. “Don’t you like Doctor Who?”</p><p> Crowley shrugged. “Eh. That tenth one was a bit boring, if you ask me.”</p><p> “I thought he was hot,” Bea called from the kitchen. “I’d go down-”</p><p> “<em> Shut up </em>, Bea. No one wants to hear about your sex fantasies,” Annie shouted back. Turning to where Crowley sat on the sofa, she yanked a pillow from underneath one of the cushions, and threw it at him. “I don’t care what you watch. Just clean while you do</p><p>it.”</p><p> Crowley acquiesced and grabbed the remote. He grinned when he found what he’d wanted. “Perfect timing. The show’s just beginning!”</p><p> Bea strolled out from the kitchen, startled to see what he’d chosen. “You...you watch...The Golden Girls?!”</p><p> Annie jerked her head up at the theme song and growled. “Come on, Tony. My grandmother watches that shite.”</p><p> Crowley shrugged. “I like it.”</p><p> “That’s pretty gay,” Bea cackled, popping a pretzel into her mouth. “Innit, Annie?”</p><p> Crowley could feel his face heat up, but kept his eyes on the screen. This was a good episode. It was one of his favorites. </p><p> “Yeah, well, don’t have it on when everyone starts coming in. They’ll think they’ve wandered into a retirement home.”</p><p> It didn’t take long for guests to start filing in; the party was underway, and that night, everything would change. </p><p>  </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. I Don’t Want To Spoil The Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The music was almost explosive, and people Crowley didn’t know crowded the rooms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He wandered the darkly lit halls as the party progressed. It had dawned on him that if it weren’t for the alcohol he would have skipped it, and that made him feel slightly pathetic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Hey,” a girl called as she waltzed up to him. She wore a tight dress, tighter than Crowley thought humanly possible, and gaudy makeup. Truthfully, though, he was envious of her heels and fishnet tights. “You’re Tony, Right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Crowley, actually,” he yelled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had the music gotten louder? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Amanda. Perkins. You know, you’re pretty cute. I’ve always had a thing for guys with longer hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He blushed and stared into his solo cup. “T-thanks.” It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotten fairly long, long enough that it went past his shoulders. He liked it that way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “So..do you like the music?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Uh...yeah. It’s really...um...loud.” What else could he say? That his radio only played Queen? He cringed at the thought and occupied himself with his drink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Yeah. I think so too. You wanna go upstairs and fuck?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He spit out his drink. Horrified, he watched as she looked down, her dress completely ruined. He could see her eyes beginning to well. She rubbed at her face, and suddenly tears were streaming down her mascara streaked cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Oh..oh, no..I’m..sorry. Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. I’m not good with this sort of thing...do you need to lie down? Maybe ice. Does ice work when you cry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Amanda sniffed. Wiping at her eyes with her free hand, she nodded. “Please. I have...a headache.” Grabbing his hand, she led him upstairs, and hurried into Annie’s parents room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Okay..uh, I guess I’ll get you some water. Or-” he stopped as she aggressively pulled him on top of her, yanking at his shirt collar. “Hey, what the- oh, you’re drunk, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Amanda laughed. “Nah…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Disgusted, he wrestled himself out of her grip. “I-I gotta go. Sorry, this is weird.” He walked out the door and edged past a couple making out before stumbling into Annie’s room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Had he done the wrong thing? He felt the urge to run back there, to help Amanda, but he remembered that he wasn’t meant to. That was Ezra’s job. Ezra was the nice one. Always had been. But it tore at him, even though he figured he was probably better off without her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Whatever. At least I can sleep now...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He walked through the door that separated his room from Annie’s but stopped at the entryway when he heard talking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Shh...nobody’s gonna find us here. It’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Gabe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Crowley walked out so that he was in the open before clearing his throat. Unfortunately he almost fell backwards from shock. “Wait-Gabriel? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bea</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> There in the landing lay none other than Gabe and Bea. They were obviously in the middle of something, and he was too tired to go back downstairs, but he was so grossed out that it seemed like the only other option. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I can explain,” Gabe said carefully, standing up, though Crowley immediately wished he hadn’t, because he was half naked. “This is merely a social experiment and nothing more. I am in no way-” he stopped talking and stared at the other boy for a moment. “You’re not buying any of this, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “No, not really. Are you two enjoying yourselves?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Well. We were, and then you ruined it,” Bea snarled. “What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing back here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I’ve been staying here after </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> kicked me out!” Crowley snapped. Bea rolled her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Whatever, freak.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Gabe kicked her and directed his gaze back to him, plastering on his signature smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Look, Anthony. We’ll make you a deal. You don’t say anything about this little incident, and we make sure nothing bad happens to you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “B-bad?” Crowley asked, slightly amused, partly terrified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “We wouldn’t want anyone figuring out your nasty little secret, now would we?” Gabriel replied, his violet eyes sharp and direct as ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He gulped. “Wh-which secret? I’ve got a lot of them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Your mother, to start,” Bea hissed, rising to her feet to join Gabriel. “Or, there’s always your little boyfriend...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Crowley stared at the floor for a few moments before lifting his head. “You’ve got a deal.” He stalked out of the room and past a few more couples before descending the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> His first stop was the kitchen. There was a line for shots and alcohol, but he walked right past it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Move,” he said, ordering a young boy, who did just that. Grabbing a full bottle of vodka, he downed half of it and then the rest of a bottle of red wine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He watched in a daze as everyone looked back at him in horror. “What are you all looking at?” He stumbled through the house before collapsing onto the couch where two other kids sat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Anthony? Is that you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Blinking, he could make out a face and long brown hair. “Oh...hey, Annie…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “What the fuck are you doing? Did you really just drink the rest of the wine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Mhmm….maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “God, I can’t believe this. Just...clean yourself up, alright? And don’t drink anything else, except water. You’re on thin ice, right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Crowley pulled himself off the couch and stormed back upstairs to his room. He ignored the complaints from Gabe and Beatrice and collected his things, remembering to grab the radio and his lighter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Suddenly, he wished he had a watch to check the time. As he wobbled out of the house, he looked up at the sky and smiled. It was dark. He took off his sunglasses and hopped onto his bike, a song playing on loop in his head…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to ride my bicycle, bicycle, bicycle</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to ride my bicycle</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to ride my bike</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to ride my bicycle</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to ride my bicycle, races are coming your way….</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahh the next chapter...I won’t give anything away, but just be prepared for...a lot ;) What I can tell you is that I have literally been waiting ages to write this out and I’m so excited!! I hope you enjoy - and thank you so much for reading up until this point! I know it drags and whatnot but I honestly think that the next three chapters are going to be very much worth the wait!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. A Taste Of Honey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ezra didn’t sleep. </p><p> He stayed up reading, writing, and working on annotating his Bible. Some nights, he spent hours trying to come up with ways to plan the next fundraiser, whether it be for the youth group or the school. </p><p> It was one of those nights again; but he’d soon gotten distracted when he remembered that the next morning he’d have to start his first day as leader of the youth group. </p><p> He wasn’t ready yet. He <em> couldn’t </em> be. </p><p> <em> I do wish Anathema was here….maybe she could help calm my nerves. Surely, a cup of tea might do the trick, though, wouldn’t it?  </em></p><p> Anathema had smartly decided to spend the night at Libby’s. Why, she wouldn’t tell him. Said it was none of his business, but then again it was. Whatever that meant. </p><p> He walked down the stairs to make a cup of tea when he noticed a flashing, shining light in the distance. When it got closer, he could make out a bike, and a dark figure on top of it, heading towards his house. </p><p> He gasped and ran back up the stairs and into his room. He edged closer toward the balcony door, flinging it open when he heard a <em> CRASH </em>. </p><p> Glancing out over the edge, he could see a dark figure climbing up the house as if it were no trouble at all to them. </p><p> “<em> Crowley </em>?!” </p><p> “Yes,” admitted Crowley, forcing himself to walk across the roof towards the balcony. “M’very tired right now, angel.”</p><p> Ezra groaned. “Are you drunk, dearest?” </p><p> “”N-n-no. No.”</p><p> He eyed the redhead closely for a moment. His outfit was ripped and torn, his hair dirty. A single rose lay on his shoulder, its thorns clinging to his shirt. </p><p> “You crashed into Agnes’s rosebushes, didn’t you?”</p><p> “Nope…” he smiled, but then thought better of it and began to nod. “Yes.”</p><p> He grabbed his hand, yet took notice of the fact that he’d flinched, and let go. “Come on. I’ll...help you get cleaned up.”</p><p> They walked inside, and Ezra shut the door. He turned on an old-fashioned lamp, and spun around, ready to tell Crowley that it was past midnight, but stopped short when he saw him in the light.</p><p> The thorns from the rose bushes had cut through his skin, forming a crown of spines and blood. His shirt hung off of his gaunt, lanky figure; his shoes were missing, and even underneath his sunglasses, Ezra could see dark circles under his eyes. </p><p> “Crowley, dearest?”</p><p> “Mhm?”</p><p> “Do you want to take a shower? A bath, perhaps? You look rather unwell.”</p><p> “Ngk. Okay.” Ezra led him into the bathroom, and turned to give him some privacy. </p><p> “Angel?”</p><p> “Hm?”</p><p> “Can...can…”</p><p> “What-” Turning back around to face him, he almost fell down from shock from the sight of his body. </p><p> “Where-where did you get these?” He rapsed, pointing at a series of bruises. They sprawled downwards, starting at his neck and ending at the base of his back. His sides and front were too, a stark contrast to his ashen, pallid skin. </p><p> “A-a fight,” he whispered. Ezra shook his head. “No.. these look like they...are you sure?”</p><p> He didn’t concede until the other nodded. “Do you need help..er..getting in? I don’t want to intrude, of course, but…” he trailed off, realizing the heat that was flushing his skin wasn’t from the room. “Are you in pain?”</p><p> Crowley lowered his head. “If I am, will you think of me any less?”</p><p> Ezra felt his breath get caught in his throat. “Of course not, dearest.”</p><p> “Then...yes.” He blinked for a moment, before collapsing into Ezra’s arms. </p><p> “Oh-oh dear…” Ezra murmured. He gathered Crowley into his arms, lowered him to the floor, and sat down next to him. Was this normal, when one was drunk? </p><p> A few minutes later, Crowley stirred.</p><p> “Oh, good, you’re awake!” He said, trying to smile as cheerfully as possible. “Any better?”</p><p> Crowley waved his hands. <em> So-so </em>. </p><p> “Ah. I see.” </p><p> “Angel, can you start the water?”</p><p> “Of course.” He said, just happy that he was finally responsive. Once the water began to pour into the tub, he turned and saw Crowley had taken off his jeans and was trying to pull out the thorns. </p><p> <em> Do not look down, Ezra. Do not look down. </em> “Dearest, why don’t I lend you a robe? You’d probably be...er..more comfortable in that, and I can help you with that. Thing.” He hurried out of the room and down the hallway, pressing his face into his hands to just <em> forget </em>. </p><p> <em>What am I doing?</em> <em>This isn’t a relationship - we’re barely best friends. </em></p><p>
  <em>  But... </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  I love him.  </em>
</p><p> He walked farther down the corridor and grabbed his robe before returning to the bathroom. </p><p> “Angel, you’re back!” Crowley was grinning ear to ear, but Ezra could see that it pained him.</p><p> “Here,” he said, handing him the robe. “Put this on, dearest, and I’ll try to get those nasty thorns out, alright?”</p><p> “Fine,” Begrudgingly, he put the robe on and sat on the edge of the tub. <em> “Ow!”  </em></p><p> Ezra winced as he pulled out a thorn. “It’ll all be over soon, Crowley. Heavens, why did you have to get yourself hurt?”</p><p> “I dunno.” </p><p> Carefully as he could, Ezra wiped away some of the blood from his forehead. “Does it still sting?”</p><p> “Mmph...” </p><p> “Sorry, dearest, what was that?”</p><p><em>  “Kind of,” </em>Crowley muttered, hissing as he continued to pull out more thorns. “Oh, not the anti-anti-”</p><p> “Antiseptic. Are you still drunk? You know what, I’m sure I don’t want to know anyways. Now, just sit still.”</p><p> Crowley continued to hiss as he dabbed at the cuts and bruises, the dried blood coming off in droves.</p><p> When he was done, he observed his handiwork and smiled. “There. Better?”</p><p> “Sure,” Crowley mumbled. He ran his hands through his hair but swore when he felt something sharp prick his skin. “Fuck, that <em> hurt </em>.”</p><p> He handed him a bottle of shampoo from the cupboard. Crowley glanced at and gave him a wry smile. </p><p> “Is this yours, angel?”</p><p> “No, it’s Anathema’s, I didn’t think you’d mind.”</p><p> Crowley grumbled something under his breath and began taking off his robe.</p><p> “W-what are you doing? I still have to get the thorns out of your hair!”</p><p> “Jesus, I was just getting in the water. Is it a <em> crime </em> to want to be clean?”</p><p> Ezra huffed, slightly annoyed, partially amused, but also slightly distracted by Crowley’s cock, which he had been avoiding looking at for the past fifteen minutes. </p><p> “You’re drunk. Just let me get the thorns out before you start bleeding again.”</p><p> “No.” </p><p> “Crowley, please. And for the love of God, put your damn robe on! Do you know what somebody would say if they walked in here and saw you like this?”</p><p> “They would think that we were doing something <em> inappropriate </em>, angel,” Crowley teased, and got into the water. It was a mistake. “Shit shit shit - it’s hot! Why the bloody hell is it so boiling hot?” </p><p> “You weren’t <em> supposed </em> to get in. You were <em> supposed </em> to keep your clothes on until I left the room. You were <em> supposed </em> to not get drunk.”</p><p> “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t follow the fucking program!” Crowley shot back. “Why do you care if I’m naked around you anyways? We’ve known each other since we were, what, eight?”</p><p> “Do you use that excuse every time you strip naked?” He retorted, suddenly angry. Crowley fumed as he sunk himself lower into the water, murmuring something as he went down.</p><p> “What was that?”</p><p> “I said, <em> I don’t know.” </em> </p><p> “Then why, Crowley?” He sighed, leaning on the edge of the tub. “I guess I don’t understand you.”</p><p> “You aren’t wrong.”</p><p> “Hm?”</p><p> “I wasn’t thinking...sorry. Should’ve...should’ve told you.”</p><p> Ezra shook his head. “No. It’s alright. You’re just drunk, or at least coming off of it. How long has it been?”</p><p> “Since I left? A couple hours, maybe?”</p><p> “Oh.” </p><p> Crowley winced as he pulled out a rose, but quickly changed it to a smile as he handed it to the other boy. “Here. This is for rescuing me.”</p><p> Ezra laughed. “I didn’t rescue you. You…” he could feel his face heat up. “Um. Do you need help getting the thorns out?”</p><p> Crowley nodded. “Gimme a sec.” He watched as Ezra edged toward the door. “No, no, you don’t have to leave. Really.” Taking off his glasses, he dunk his head into the water, and didn’t lift it up until he’d scrubbed away the rest of the blood. </p><p> “Okay. Ready.” </p><p> Ezra nodded and began rolling up his sleeves. When he sat on the edge of the tub, Crowley’s eyes travelled down his arm until they stopped at his wrist. He grabbed his hand and examined it for a moment before looking him straight in the eye.</p><p> “Who did this to you?”</p><p> Ezra frowned. “What do you mean?”</p><p><em>  “This,” </em> he snarled, holding up his wrist to the light. A single numerical phrase etched into his skin. <em> 7:21-23 </em>. “What is this, angel?”</p><p> He knew he couldn’t lie very well. The last time he’d lied straight to Gabriel’s face he’d gotten punished. His hands were red for weeks, and each time he lied about them he’d always felt a pang of guilt, and heard Gabriel’s voice in his head, saying: <em> That’s what you get. You deserved this. </em> </p><p> “It...it was an accident.”</p><p> “These look like numbers,” Crowley muttered. “What do they mean?”</p><p> “Oh, I wouldn’t know, dearest. It really was just a small scrape-”</p><p><em>  “A small scrape? </em> This looks deeper than that, angel.” </p><p> He tried to brush it aside as he picked out a particularly nasty cluster from his hair. “It’s really not that bad. Not as bad as how you might be feeling right now.”</p><p> “Hey,” Crowley said, turning around to face him, his eyes deadly serious. “Just because I might be having a bad day doesn’t mean you can’t have them, too.”</p><p> “That’s really very sweet, dearest.”</p><p> “It’s not. You know I’m not.” </p><p> He let it slide, humming as he continued to pull out the tiny little needles strewn in his hair. </p><p> “Nice song,” the other murmured. “Moonlight Sonata, is it?”</p><p> “H-how did you know?”</p><p> “I play, don’t you remember?”  he said, grinning ear-to-ear. Ezra smiled. “How could I forget...especially that lesson. It was..”</p><p> “Don’t say kind. For the love of somebody, I am begging you to not say kind.”</p><p> “Fine. Polite. Courteous.”</p><p> “That’s even worse, you make it sound like I lended you a book at the local library. Or delivered your mail.”</p><p> “I think that’s the last one!” Ezra showed it to him and threw it away. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then. Shampoo is there, and there should be some soaps and things in the caddy. I do hope Anathema doesn’t mind.”</p><p> “Wait. Is this <em> her </em> bathroom?” </p><p> “No. This is mine. But her shampoo was the first one that I grabbed.”</p><p> “Hold on. You have separate bathrooms?”</p><p> Ezra blinked. “Yes?”</p><p> Crowley rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed. You know your house is utterly massive, right?”</p><p> “We live comfortably, Crowley.” His voice had grown soft, for he could see flashes of envy and sadness wash over the other boy's face, and it hurt him to see it. </p><p> “And I don’t. I get it.”</p><p> “You know that I didn’t mean it like that - listen to me, Crowley. What you have or don’t have doesn’t matter to me. When I see you, I see…”</p><p> “A delinquent? A rotten bastard?”</p><p> Ezra sighed, and shook his head. “No. I guess there’s no point in saying it.”</p><p> “In saying what, angel?”</p><p> He didn’t know how to phrase it.</p><p> “Oh, for somebody’s sake, Ezra, spit it out!” Crowley growled, leaning over the edge of the tub. </p><p> “That I see you as mine, Crowley. There’s no other way I can put it. I’ve tried to ignore it. I’m trying now. So tell me what you want, because I can’t do it anymore,” he said, breathless and anxious and hopeful all at once. “I don’t want to be left in the dark, Anthony.”</p><p> “Can’t you tell?”</p><p> “What?”</p><p> “That I feel the same.”</p><p> Ezra rushed to the edge of the tub, a brilliant smile capturing his face. “Do you mean that, dearest?”</p><p> Crowley gingerly poked his hand, recoiled, then grasped it in his. “I mean it with every ounce of my body, Ezra. I have for...for ages, really.” He raised his hand to his mouth, studied him for a moment, and let go.“And I doubt I will ever stop.”</p><p> Ezra nodded, but felt uncertain about what he was supposed to do next. </p><p> Truthfully, both of them were.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> After Crowley was decidedly less tipsy, Ezra had chosen to sit by his side. For some time, neither of them said anything; every so often, Ezra would run his hands through a lock of red hair. </p><p> “We’re going to have to go to bed soon, you know,” he murmured, his back now leaned against the wall. “Aren’t you tired?”</p><p> “Of course I’m tired, why wouldn’t I be?” Crowley muttered. “How late is it, anyways?”</p><p> “I don’t know. After two, maybe?”</p><p> “Shit. I’m sorry, angel,” he said, turning to look him in the eye. “Did I wake you?”</p><p> He blushed - when had he become so considerate? No, he always had been. It wasn’t new. <em> It shouldn’t surprise me, </em> he thought sadly, <em> that he’s the only one that really cares.  </em></p><p>“No,” finally looking him in the eyes, he could see the way his face fell. “Don’t worry. I don’t sleep much, anyways.”</p><p> “Why not?” </p><p> “I-I work, I suppose, and that <em> does </em> take up one's time. But I...I guess I just never really feel like I have to.”</p><p> “So you’ve decided that you’re going to work until the point of exhaustion?”</p><p> “Well, I-”</p><p> “That’s not healthy, angel. Can’t you take some pills for that? What’s that vitamin, again?”</p><p> “Melatonin?”</p><p> “Yeah, that.”</p><p> “No, I shouldn’t...I have so much I have to do for the youth group, and now that Gabriel’s stepped down-”</p><p> “He <em> what?”  </em></p><p>“I wasn’t expecting it either! It just...sort of happened!”</p><p> “Well, look at you,” Crowley declared proudly. “You’ve got just about everything now, haven’t you?”</p><p> “Of course,” his voice cracking when he spoke. “Almost.” He suddenly gasped when he realized something.</p><p> “What?”</p><p> “Er...it’s nothing. I’m sure you’ll-we’ll figure it out.”</p><p> “What? The hangover?”</p><p> “No, not <em> that </em> you ninny. Your…” he waved a hand vaguely towards Crowley’s body. </p><p> “My dick?”</p><p> “No!” Ezra hissed, lowering his voice. “Well. Yes and no. Your <em> clothes </em>.” </p><p> Crowley cringed. “Ah. Yeah. How’d they look?”</p><p> “I suppose that they would look nice for someone who’s attending a...bebop concert?”</p><p> “A bebop concert.” Crowley repeated flatly. </p><p> “What else would you call it?”</p><p> “God, angel, it’s a rock concert. Whatever. I guess I can always sleep in the nude-”</p><p> “You will certainly <em> not </em> do that.”</p><p> “Fine. Do you have any suggestions?”</p><p> Luckily, he did. He handed Crowley a towel and walked back to his bedroom. He knew there wouldn’t be anything in Crowley’s size, but what else could he do? He pulled out a pair of flannel and a sweatshirt from his aunt that he’d never worn. </p><p> He hurried back into the bathroom and saw Crowley standing there, robe on, staring at the side of his face.</p><p> “What’s wrong, dearest?”</p><p> “Angel, do you think I should get a tattoo?”</p><p> Ezra grinned. “I think it’d look rather dashing.” Crowley groaned, but smiled appreciatively when he handed him the clothes. </p><p> “Thanks, angel.”</p><p> “You’re welcome - I’ll wait outside for you.”</p><p> “Uh..yeah. I’ll just be a minute.”</p><p> Ezra nodded and shut the door. He walked over to his dresser and sighed. <em> I shouldn’t be doing this to myself </em> . He started searching through his bookshelf for his copy of <em> A Midsummers Night Dream </em>, even though he didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe he turned to books because they guided him; they were his rock, and they were a better source of advice than Gabriel or Uriel or Sandy or Micheal had ever been. </p><p> “Angel?”</p><p> He walked back to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “Are you alright?”</p><p> “I look like I’m seven, Ezra.” The door swung open, and unfortunately, he was right. The clothes hung off of him in an unnerving way; his frame seemed to be drowning in fabric. </p><p> “It’s not that bad-”</p><p> “You know it is.” He held up his arm to show how the sleeve draped his arm. </p><p> “Well, at least you look much cleaner now,” Ezra remarked, trying to reassure him. “And your hair looks very-” he stopped midway when he remembered that Crowley would <em> not </em> appreciate being called nice. “Very long.”</p><p> Crowley grinned. “That’s what I was going for.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is my long-awaited gift to you all. i hope you enjoy :) i literally almost cried while writing this and experienced all of the following emotions: terror/sheer excitement/horror/giddiness </p><p>truthfully, I loved writing this even though it probably reads like a train wreck. :’)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Honey Don’t</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time they left the bathroom, it was a quarter till three in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel, I have to tell you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra paused at his dresser. “Go ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley didn’t say anything. The words just wouldn’t come - and they both knew it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know you don’t have to, Anthony,” he started to pull off his shirt, but thought better of it. They weren’t there yet. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll...I’ll tell you one of mine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Y-you would?” Crowley sat up, a bit more attentive now. Ezra smiled. He stopped at the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath, before responding:</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Would you be alright if I..slept here, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley nodded silently as Ezra slid into bed next to him; they fit together perfectly, as if it were made for the two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Are you comfortable, dearest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley nodded again. His brain was short circuiting. “Do you want me to go ahead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “If you’d like, my boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>My boy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crowley blushed at the words - he didn’t know they could be so comforting. “Well, first off..” </span>
  <em>
    <span>like a bandaid. I can do this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I don’t...I don’t think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes?” Ezra asked. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t want to see you with Micheala,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley….” there was a quick flash of amusement on his face before it was replaced by sadness and something else...longing, maybe? “Micheal and I..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Micheal</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Crowley shot up from the bed, his eyes having grown wide in awe. “You don’t mean what I think you do, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Shh...it was all very sudden,” Ezra whispered, lowering his voice. “I didn’t expect it either, but it’s what he’s comfortable with. Of course, I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s going to get into that bloody convent, but he’s not exactly...out...oh dear, I just outed him, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley sighed, lowering himself further onto the bed. “He deserves it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley! I’m shocked you would even say such a thing! That’s...thats…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What? I got outed by your lot, him specifically, didn’t I? He had it coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra bit his lip, waiting for him to say something else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When he didn’t, they let some time pass before it seemed okay again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel...I didn’t mean it. Nobody deserves that, not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not bitter about it, but it would be nice if I could give them the go-ahead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “....Dearest, if you are...why didn’t you tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He sucked in a deep breath before answering. He felt like he was swallowing the sea. “I wasn’t ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded. “I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I guess...I guess it’s the same with Micheal, right? They came out to you when they were ready, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, I suppose so...he didn’t really say anything else. That wasn’t why he asked me...to..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “To </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>, angel?” He leaned closer, and Ezra could see in the dim light that his eyes had grown very serious, his face just the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We aren’t together,” Ezra said simply. “It’s only out of...convenience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley could feel his jaw drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You aren’t?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra laughed weakly. “No. That’s really all it is, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley let out a sigh of relief before wrapping his arms around him. It was then that they realized they hadn’t hugged in a very long time. It dawned on Crowley that that time had been his last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It felt perfect. Good. Pleasing. He was already running out of words to describe it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “When do you think it was, dear, when we were like this last?” Ezra whispered into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped around him now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So long…” he paused, frowning at the memory. It had been the night of the accident, and they had been in the hospital...“What do you think would happen if someone were to walk in here right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I…” Ezra pulled away for a moment, just to look into </span>
</p><p>
  <span>his eyes, before holding him a little tighter. “They would think we were doing something...</span>
  <em>
    <span>inappropriate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley winced, but then noticed that Ezra hadn’t let go of him yet. “And would they be right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “If they were, we would have to do more than just hug,” Ezra whispered, his voice husky and low. Crowley could feel his heartbeat quicken. He could feel it pumping against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Is he really asking for this? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“I...are you...is this uncomfortable for you, angel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra let go of him immediately, a dejected expression on his face. “No. Do you, er...feel uncomfortable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He shook his head. “Never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> They stared at each other for a little while, and then at their hands, which had since become intertwined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You still haven’t told me yours,” Ezra said softly. “Do you not want to? I’ll never make you do anything you don’t feel okay doing...I just want you to be alright again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley felt as though he could melt into his arms. There was something hot, pooling in the bottom of his stomach, but he wasn’t sure what yet. “No. I have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You don’t have to, Crowley, I just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said, clasping the blonde’s hands. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “A-alright, dearest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I need you to not judge me. I need you to just listen, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Their hands stayed locked together as they collapsed onto the bed, the silence lingering longer and longer every second he didn’t speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I...I’m planning on getting some money in about a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s lovely, dear - I’m happy for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley shook his head. “No. Listen to me. Do you remember those rumors that were going ‘round, right around the time of the accident?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra strained to remember, the images slowly coming back, the words flooding his mind in waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “T-that you and Freddie and Ligur were…” he watched as the realization hit Ezra’s face. “Oh, oh no - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crowley-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Listen to me, Ezra. I never told you what happened that day, at least...at least not exactly. Don’t give me that look - Freddie is going to be back any day now - we’ll start at a bank and work our way down. They won’t even know it’s us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra shook his head. “No, Crowley. I can’t have you...no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But-but why, angel?” He pleaded, his grip tightening around Ezra’s hands. “I told you then, I’m telling you now. I can help you. You won’t need your parents’ money - you can get it from me, and we can share it and...and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what this is about?” Ezra jerked his hands out of his and angrily sat up. “Do you honestly think that I’m just some...some trust fund child? Hm? That that’s all I’m ever gonna be? That I’m going to not work a single day in my life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you’ve had everything handed to you?” He shot back, his own anger rising. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I...I...At least I don’t hang around trash!” Ezra got up from where he was sitting, and took to the door of the balcony. He jostled the doorknob and flung it open, forcing himself out into the cool night air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel…” Crowley got up from the bed and followed him; he waited for just a moment before walking out too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wait, Crowley…” Ezra bit his lip, glancing up at the moon. It was full and bright, a shining emblem in a pitch black sky. “I’m sorry for what I said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know,” because he did. Besides, Crowley could never stay mad at him for very long. He usually slept off the pain and then buried everything down until it came rushing out like a broken dam. “I didn’t...I know you’ve worked, Ezra. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You never sleep, you’re always on about the church, and you help out the younger kids with their homework, or drive book-girl around - I could never be like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra turned to him and smiled. His curls, framed against the sharp moonlight, formed a halo around his head. He really was an angel. “You’re still a much better person than I am, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He didn’t know what to say, so Ezra continued to talk to fill up the chilly silence. “I think...I think you’re very selfless. Nice, even. And extremely intelligent, but you never let anyone see that. You pretend you don’t read - but I know you have, because I saw you reading</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Suddenly, Crowley couldn’t take it anymore. He could not stand there and listen to the other call him </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he knew he wasn’t. He had scars and cigarette burns to prove it. He wasn’t nice. He never had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He took a step forward, letting his fingers find the outline of Ezra’s jaw, and brang it forward, cutting him off with a single, gentle kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was no use in describing it; he was so blissfully unaware of everything but the heat rising past his neck and onto his face, rushing down his body until he felt drunker than he’d ever had in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> When he let go, his hands still hadn’t left Ezra’s jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Neither of them said a word for a half-second before he stormed toward the door. His mind was racing, his body overcome with something new, and suddenly he felt very dazed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra reached out and pulled his hand. “Wait.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m so, so sorry, angel...I just, I don’t know...I wasn’t thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know you weren’t, but I want you to do it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley looked up at him, startled. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Just for tonight,” Ezra said breathlessly. Crowley leaned against the frame. Never in his life had he thought he’d be faced with something as easy as this. But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No. We’d…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Please don’t say it, Crowley,” Ezra whispered. “I don’t want to hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I can see that, but we both know that it’s too risky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, don’t you…” Ezra shook his head. “One kiss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What happens after that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra let out a shaky breath. “I’m not sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “See? We can’t...look, what happens when we go back to school, hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I...I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re still with Micheal. What happens if I want to...if we do this in public? Together? That doesn’t look good, now does it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra smiled bitterly. “You’re right. It’s wishful thinking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They walked into the room a bit further and shut the door, locking in the rest of the heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I guess we should go to bed now,” Ezra murmured. “It’s going to be light soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Me too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> That night, Ezra kissed him twice more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley didn’t complain. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i hope the wait was worth it :) i loved writing this, it was so fluffy!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Things We Said Today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ezra and Crowley remember what happened the night before; Ezra takes over the youth group</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> It was true that Ezra didn't sleep. Well. He <em> did </em>, whenever he needed to - but it was only out of necessity and nothing more. </p><p> When he woke up, it was light outside. He smiled, dreaming of a good cup of tea, but jumped at the sight of an arm wrapped around his stomach. </p><p> He gasped, realizing that what had happened the night before hadn’t been a dream. He really had kissed Crowley. They really had spent the night together. </p><p> He blushed, remembering the sight of Crowley in the tub, even though it pained him to see all the bruises on his body. </p><p> He glanced over at him, wishing they could stay like this for just a little longer. <em> He really is quite attractive… </em>Ezra mused, observing the way he’d curled up in fetus-position, taking note of how his hair looked in the early morning sun. </p><p> He kissed his forehead as gently as he could, trying not to wake the poor boy up, but it was no use.</p><p> “A-angel?” Crowley wrestled with the covers before propping himself up to get a better look of the room around him. He suddenly clutched his head, groaning at his headache. “Shit. M’head hurts. When did I get here?”</p><p> “Oh, I’m not sure. 1 AM, maybe?”</p><p> “I can...I <em> kind of </em> remember what happened.”</p><p> “K-kind of?” he squeaked. “You don’t remember what...you don’t remember?”</p><p> Crowley grinned. “I’m just kidding, angel. It’s just a bit fuzzy, that’s all. I’m used to it though. I can handle my liquor well.” He rolled out of bed, pulling a hair tie from his wrist to put his hair up. </p><p> “Handle your liquor well? My dear boy, you came in dead on your feet - it took at least an hour and a half before I could have an actual conversation with you! How much could you have had to drink?”</p><p> “I dunno. A bottle and a half?”</p><p> Ezra gasped. “A bottle and a half of <em> what </em>, Crowley?” </p><p> “Wine. Gin, maybe? Or was it vodka? I’m not sure. They both look the same, anyways.”</p><p> Ezra rolled his eyes. “Well, I do hope you don’t ever do it again. I can’t...I can’t be a parent for you, my boy.”</p><p> “You call me ‘my boy’.”</p><p> “It’s a pet name,” he huffed, getting up from bed as well. “Oh..” he stopped at the edge when he watched Crowley saunter from the dresser to the mirror to check himself out. He turned around, obviously pleased with the attention (if not amused.) </p><p> “Like what you see?” He joked, putting on his sunglasses. </p><p> Ezra felt his face flush. “I suppose so,” their eyes met, and he could barely take it anymore. They had waited <em> so </em> long. “You look...um…”</p><p> “What? Bad? Devious? Devilish?” </p><p> “Well, I was going to say hot, but you’re all of those things too.”</p><p> Crowley gaped at him for a second before giggling. “Sorry, angel, I just wasn’t expecting that one from you.”</p><p> He pouted, slightly hurt that he hadn’t extended his arms for another hug. “I wasn’t <em> joking </em>, Crowley.”</p><p> Crowley paused. “Wait. You <em> meant </em> that?” </p><p> “Of course! I thought you would have taken it as a compliment!”</p><p> “Well, normally I would, I guess, but not from you!”</p><p> Ezra stopped for a moment to think, and realized he was right. They had pretended they weren’t friends for years, and last night they flung themselves at each other like two love-struck teenagers, which, well, they were. It made sense, because they just weren’t there.  </p><p> Yet. </p><p> “Well,” he said, intertwining their fingers together. “I did mean it. And I do find you hot. Attractive. Sexy. Whatever you wish to call it.”</p><p> Crowley smiled, because there was nothing else he could do in that moment, but smile, and hope that the  moment would last forever. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> They parted at the church. Luckily, they’d both managed to escape the house without running into Ezra’s mother, Agnes, or Anathema, and Ezra had managed to get Crowley’s bike without anyone noticing. </p><p> They drove in silence; the bike sat in the back, unscathed by the rose bushes or the thorns. When Ezra parked the car, they kissed again and then got out as if they had never met the other before in their life. </p><p> It was customary. </p><p> They had been doing it for years, after all. </p><p> “I’ll...I’ll call you, alright?” Crowley said softly. “Promise.”</p><p> He smiled. “Good - I’ll do the same. Well. I will, but if you call me, then I will of course be available to answer your call which...oh, I’m babbling again, aren’t I?”</p><p> Crowley grinned. “Don’t worry. I like hearing you talk.” He hopped on his bike and waved goodbye before speeding off into the distance, far away from the church and everyone inside of it. </p><p> “Right,” Ezra said to himself, pulling his bag out of the backseat of his car. He walked inside and up the stairs, his posture perfect and his head held high. “Hello everyone!” He announced as he opened the door. </p><p> “Ezra, Gabriel’s late again,” Uriel explained. “He’s not answering our calls. Have you heard anything?”</p><p> He frowned. This wasn’t good. “Er...he hadn’t told you?”</p><p> Uriel shook her head. “Anything I need to be aware of?”</p><p> “Uh...yes? One moment, dear. I’ll...I’ll tell the class.” He walked toward the front and clasped his hands, hoping it would make everyone pay attention. </p><p> It did not. </p><p> “Excuse me, everyone?”</p><p> Nothing.</p><p> “Hello?” He banged on the podium, and suddenly, everyone stopped talking and immediately sat up straight in what Gabriel had called the ‘listening position.’</p><p> “Ah, I have an announcement to make. As of, well...yesterday, Gabriel has stepped down. From the youth group.”</p><p> The group stayed silent, except for a few audible gasps from the back.</p><p> “Now, I have been asked by Micheal-” he stopped and saw Micheal staring straight at him, the color drained from his face. “-A. Micheala. Excuse me. Bit of a bird in the throat, as they say.”</p><p> “It’s <em> frog </em>,” Sandy yelled. Some of the students began to laugh, but it was quickly stifled. One of the rules (Number 28, respectively) was not to yell - and they knew the punishment if they broke it. “It’s frog in the throat.”</p><p> Ezra laughed nervously. “Oh, of course. Thank you, Sandy,” He watched the crowd, hoping that one of them would at least crack a smile to break the awkwardness. “You-you can laugh, if you want to. I don’t mind.” </p><p> “But that’s against the rules, innit?” Someone asked from the back. Ezra was sure their name was Amie. </p><p> “It...it is? I didn’t know that.” Surely that couldn’t be right. Could it? </p><p> “Yes, Rule 35,” Uriel said automatically. “I added that one in myself.”</p><p> Ezra flashed her a fake smile before continuing on with his speech. “So, I’m taking his place. As of today.”</p><p> No one said anything for a moment, so to fill the silence he kept talking. “I guess we should just read 2 Maccabees, if that’s alright with the rest of you…”</p><p> “Wait, aren’t you supposed to read it to us? And then give the lesson?” Someone else asked. </p><p> “Well, can’t we all just read it together?”</p><p> “Do you mean take turns?” A boy named James asked. </p><p> “Why not? It’ll be fun,” Ezra said, still smiling. “Jenny, you can start with chapter one, and Georgia can take turns with you while reading it.”</p><p> Uriel got up from her chair and hurried over, yanking him off the podium to the side. </p><p> “What in God’s name are you doing?”</p><p> “I-I was just trying to teach them,” he said matter of factly. “What’s the harm in that?”</p><p> “More than you think.” She snarled, and stormed out of the room. </p><p> He was beginning to feel as though this was the wrong job for him. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Devil In Her Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ligur gets some bad news; Crowley meets up with a  few old pals</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ligur watched from his window as he saw the Hastur’s car pull into the driveway. He frowned and walked to the phone to dial Micheal’s number. </p><p> <em>She’s got to pick up, </em> he thought, suddenly angry. <em> If she doesn’t, I’ll… </em></p><p> “Ligur?”</p><p> “Oh. Micheala. Good. I need to talk to you, <em> now </em>.” </p><p> “...So do I.”</p><p> “Oh?”</p><p> “Yeah. We’re done.”</p><p> Ligur could feel his heartbeat slow down, stop, then start up again. “What?”</p><p> “You-you heard me.”</p><p> “I know that, but <em> why. </em>Why are you doing this to me?”</p><p> “I-I guess I just don’t feel comfortable anymore. In the relationship, and...I don’t agree with what you’re doing. What you’re <em> trying </em> to do.” </p><p> “And?” He asked bitterly. “Anything else you’d like to add?”</p><p> “I-I suppose so. You know, even though Ezra and I aren’t <em> really </em> together, I think he’s changed me. Or, I feel different, but better. Happy, even. I don’t need you. I don’t need to be in a relationship, at least not right now.”</p><p> “And the convent?”</p><p> When she didn’t respond, Ligur filled the silence by telling him that Freddie was back. <br/>
<br/>
 “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, but he didn’t seem to hear it. </p><p> “It’s all over now,” he muttered. “How am I going to get all the money?”</p><p> “Wait - is <em>that </em> what you were on about?” Micheal asked incredulously. “Where would you have gotten it from? W-why didn’t you tell me?!” </p><p> “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Ligur snapped. “You never asked questions - that’s my job, innit? To ask around? You didn’t once suspect anything, so why should I have told <em> you </em> anything?”</p><p> “Oh, I don’t know!” Micheal yelled into the receiver. “Maybe it’s because you were my boyfriend? How the hell would you have gotten the money, hm?”</p><p> “We were…” Ligur lowered his voice, hissing into the speaker. “We were going to rob a bank, or at least try a pawn shop.”</p><p> “A bank?” Micheal’s voice continued to raise. “A <em> bank </em> ? Oh, that’s just fucking...wait a minute. You said it was all over after you said Freddie was back...were you planning on doing this... <em> together </em>?” </p><p> “Yes,” Ligur hummed, scrawling something into a piece of paper. “Your little youth group promotes teamwork, doesn't it?”</p><p> “T-this isn’t teamwork,” Micheal spoke slowly. “No. No, no no...something doesn’t feel right about this.”</p><p> “And you’ll be careful not to say a single word,” he snarled. “Or-”</p><p> “Oh, or else what? You’re gonna kill me?”</p><p> To her horror, Ligur didn’t respond, only smiling himself. </p><p> “You wouldn’t...you wouldn’t stoop so low,” she whispered coldly. “I know you wouldn’t- you-you,” she stopped, waiting for him to cut her off. He didn’t. “My brother is in a very bad place right now, because-”</p><p> “Because of me? I don’t think so, love. If I remember correctly, you were the one that persuaded him at a party. Your brother soon had a nasty fit, quit the youth group, and now you’re blaming me because I just so happen to hate him. Bloody fucking brilliant, Micheala.”</p><p> “I’m just trying to save myself,” and it was true. “That’s all - you know Gabe won’t leave his room anymore? They-”</p><p> “You know damn well what this is about,” Ligur mused. “It’s a question of <em> authority </em>. For years, Gabriel was the leader of the group. And once your little friend came in and stepped all over him, they’ve turned on him and they’re just waiting to do it again. You better watch your back, Mickey, because those kids are just as ruthless as Gabriel and you know it. The minute you make a misstep, the second the truth gets out about your brother, the more willing they will be to destroy you.”</p><p> “That may be true,” Micheal responded delicately. “But whatever happens, at least I don’t have to rob a bank for my money. What you think is less important is what I have and you don’t - that’s the difference between us. I have faith. I have friends. And by God, I still have my brother. I may hate the way he talks to me, the way he answers me, the way he treats me - but he will always be my blood - my <em> family </em> , and I will <em> always </em> stick with him.”</p><p> “I hope that you’ll stick by that later,” he remarked, a smug grin on his face. </p><p> “Fuck off, Ligur.”</p><p> A wave of aversion fell over him, but it quickly receded. His lips curled into a smile as he heard the front door bell ring. He hung up the phone without saying goodbye, and noiselessly, he walked down the hall. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> Crowley biked down his street, a new <em> lightness </em> just bubbling inside him, minus the splitting headache from all the alcohol he’d downed the night before. He couldn’t describe it well, but it was there sure enough, brilliant and exciting and <em> new </em>. </p><p> When he told Ezra that he had business to take care of, he wasn’t lying. He did. Turning into one of the driveways, he parked his bike by the shed and knocked on the door. </p><p> He wasn’t surprised when Beatrice opened the door; although he had been expecting her mother instead, and wasn’t used to seeing her dressed so….different. </p><p> “Why are you dressed like you’re getting married?” </p><p> Bea wrinkled her nose. “Get inside, snake-eyes. We have to talk.”</p><p> He cringed, but when he got inside he realized he was wearing Ezra’s clothes.</p><p> “I guess I should get to ask why <em> you’re </em> dressed like you’ve just attended a round of golf?” </p><p> “I...um…”</p><p> “Spent a night at his house, did you?”</p><p> Crowley could feel his face flush. “How can you tell?”</p><p> “You have never worn a polo and shorts in your life.” She paused for a moment before giving him a small, but reassuring smile. “It’s alright. You...you look good, you know? But the shirt’s a bit baggy.” </p><p> Slightly embarrassed, he lowered his head, only to realize he should probably return the compliment. “You look nice too.”</p><p> She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, niceties over. You know I do not look nice, and don’t ever use that word again, you got that? I get it. I look like…”</p><p> “Like you just got back from church?”</p><p> She thought about that for a moment. “That’s...that’s actually a good thing.”</p><p> “Wait...are you going on a <em> date </em>?” </p><p> Bea growled and stormed off to the kitchen. She came back armed with snacks but ended up picking a piece of chewing gum. “Sure. Call it whatever.” She sat down at the kitchen island, and he did the same. </p><p> “Look, Bea, can I ask you something?”</p><p> “Shoot.”</p><p> “Why...why didn’t you tell us about it? About you and Gabe.”</p><p> “I-I don’t know. I think I was scared of the reaction. What you guys would say. All of you - all of us - have judged their lot before. But Gabe’s different. Once you get to know him, he’s a really nice guy. A <em> good </em> guy.” </p><p> Crowley nodded. “That’s...that sounds great, Bea. I’m really...happy for you.”</p><p> “But you can't tell anyone. Not yet. Okay?” </p><p> “I know.”</p><p> She let out a shaky breath before pressing her face into her palms. </p><p> “Hey, you okay?”</p><p> For a moment, she didn’t respond, and then he could detect muffled, high-pitched noises. </p><p> “Um..hey, it’s gonna be alright,” he patted her hand as gently as he could, jerking at the touch. “Sorry. Uh..what’s wrong?”</p><p> Slowly, she lifted up her head. He could see her usual dark makeup streaked and ruined by fresh tears. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”</p><p> “Mph..are you sure?”</p><p> Bea got up from her chair and walked down the hallway towards the bathroom. She went in, and for ten seconds, the house stood silent. “God<em> damnit </em>!”</p><p> He hurried down the hall but remembered to knock at the door. “Bea? Can I come in?”</p><p> “Fine. Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” She flung the door open, and he could see her makeup partially wiped away. “What is it?”</p><p> “D-do you want me to redo it for you?”</p><p> “Excuse me?”</p><p> “I said, do you want me to redo your makeup for you,” he repeated. “Is that alright?”</p><p> “You’d do that for me?”</p><p> “Yeah. I mean. Don’t expect much. I’m not coming to your wedding, or the baby shower, or whatever the hell else you want to do with the <em> lovely Gabriel Connor,” </em>  he spat, walking into the bathroom with her. “Where’s your makeup?”</p><p> “Here,” she murmured, opening up the drawer. She hopped onto the counter and watched as he began opening up containers filled with powders and foundation. “It’s my mum’s, actually, but-” she trailed off. “Crowley?”</p><p> “Hm?”</p><p> “When did you learn to do makeup?”</p><p> Crowley stopped, slightly embarrassed. “Can you add this to the list of secrets?”</p><p> She sighed, but there was a soft look in her eyes. “I guess so. I mean, as long as you do a good job and don’t fuck up my face.”</p><p> “I used to do my mother’s.”</p><p> “Why?” She asked, confused. “She died right after she was put in that house, right?”</p><p> Crowley nodded. “Yep.” His throat felt very dry suddenly. He watched as gradually, it began to click, and realization washed over her face. </p><p> “Oh. Oh, Tony, I’m...I’m sorry. I really am. You know, I always thought how nice she looked, even then…”</p><p> He smiled weakly. “There’s no point in talking about it. She’s gone.” </p><p> He held up the primer, but she stopped him, lowering his hands until they’d receded back to his sides. “You’re going to have to talk about it at some point, Tony. She may be dead, but you know that people are gonna talk. I may be keeping it a secret for you, but it’s not really because I’m worried about you snitching.”</p><p> “It’s not?”</p><p> “No. I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t. But I know how hard it is - my dad has remarried lots of times, and each time it feels worse than before, you know?”</p><p> “Yeah..”</p><p> “What I’m trying to say is that nobody deserves what your mom went through. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”</p><p> Crowley glanced up at the ceiling, as if it would take the place of what he had to say. </p><p> “I miss her.”</p><p> “We all do. Remember when she used to give us extra candy on Halloween?”</p><p> He grinned and began applying the primer. “I do.”</p><p> “She was like a mother to me.” </p><p> He stopped to swallow the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Bea.”</p><p> “You’re welcome, Crowley.”</p><p>  After he left, he rode back to his house, rolled the bike into the shed, and walked in. </p><p> “You’re home,” his father barked from the table. His glass was filled with whiskey. <em> Lovely. </em>“You weren’t there to make dinner.”</p><p> He waited until his father finished his drink to ask if anything was up.</p><p> “Freddie’s back,” he muttered, flipping through his paper. “Asked for you about an hour ago.”</p><p> “<em> What </em>?” Crowley rushed out of the house, not even bothering to get his bike out. He ran across the street and knocked at the door rapidly.</p><p> It opened, and there stood Freddie Hastur, in all his demonic glory. His hair had been dyed a soft grey color and his clothes looked almost clean. </p><p> “Woah,” Freddie murmured, looking at Ezra’s clothes. “What happened to you?”</p><p> “I joined a golfing club,” Crowley offered, trying to lighten the mood. “How are you?”</p><p> “Busy. Juvie was fun. Got a frog tattoo.”</p><p> “That’s...cool,” Crowley said lamely. “I thought you’d want to hang out. For old times sake.”</p><p> “Sure. D’you have alcohol?”</p><p> “Uh. No...I kind of got a little too drunk last night. I’m a bit...tired, is all.” </p><p> “Oh. Too bad. Well, I guess the company part is fine. Have you seen Ligur? Bloody bastard hasn’t called me up once, and I <em> know </em> he’s home.” </p><p> “Er...why don’t we go check?” </p><p> “Good idea, Tony,” Freddie said happily, slapping his back. They walked over to Ligur’s house, and for once, Crowley realized how dull their conversation was. Maybe it wasn’t fair, after he’d spent the whole night with Ezra, but now it just seemed to pale in comparison. Freddie rapped on the door for about a minute before growing weary of it. “Ligur? It’s me, Fred. I got Tony here with me, and-”</p><p> It opened, and out came Ligur. “Sorry about that, gents. How’s it going, Freddie?”</p><p> “Uh...it’s going well.”</p><p> Crowley was already bored. Is this really how all their conversations went? He couldn’t remember. Everything seemed fuzzy. </p><p> “Maybe we should bike into town?” He offered, getting tired of the awkwardness. Freddie smiled ear-to-ear. “That sounds like a great idea. Ligur?”</p><p> “Sounds brilliant,” Ligur said, giving them a sinister grin. “I can’t <em> wait </em>.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this chapter was meant to be a third of its length now, but i combined the two chapters for you all so i hope you enjoy!! can’t believe we’re getting so close to the end :(</p><p>also - note - I think until Micheal makes his transition and actually starts to accept himself and his pronouns I’m going to refer to him as she, because that’s how he identifies in public, (and he hasn’t even begun to correct people, like wtf dude) plus it could get potentially really confusing.</p><p>In the words of my God RuPaul: “If you can't love yourself how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?”</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Maxwell’s Silver Hammer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span> Throughout the next week or so, everything felt </span><em><span>almost</span></em> <em><span>normal</span></em><span>. Crowley didn’t see much of Freddie but noticed that he always seemed to hang around the library at the end of the day, The Them still followed him around, and book-girl hadn’t bothered him since that day a month or so prior. </span></p><p>
  <span> One thing that had changed was how he and Ezra acted around each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They’d learned to part ways while they were in the library, but would look up until their eyes met, share a knowing grin, then pretend as though it never happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> They</span>
  <span> hadn’t kissed since that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Both of them were too afraid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> At the end of the week, Freddie came barreling into the library as everyone was packing up to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hey, Tony, how’s it hangin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley looked up from his astrology book, feigning an unnatural grimace. “Reading, man...boy...do I hate reading.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie winced. “Sorry to hear it. You know, once I read a really good book?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He stared back at him in amazement. “Really? What was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, it was only a little bit of it, n’ it was way too long and hard to read. Decam...something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley snorted as he bit back his laughter. “Um, Freddie….do you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Decameron</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie made a face and nodded. “That’s the one,” he turned and saw Ezra standing there as he packed away his things. Turning back around to face Crowley, he pointed at him with his thumb. “He looks familiar. You know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He could see Ezra lift up his head to warn him, but he was ready. “No. Never seen the...bloke in my life.” He watched as Ezra give him a thumbs-up and hurried out of the room. Freddie nodded, taking the seat across from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Listen, Tony, I know we gotta get outta here in a minute, but I’ve been meanin’ to ask you about the...item.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The item?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>item</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Freddie whispered, and suddenly he knew exactly what he’d been talking about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, oh. Yes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Right. Well, I do so happen to have it, not on me, of course, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’d better start looking for it,” Freddie snarled. “It’s on for</span>
  <em>
    <span> this Sunday</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He got up, pushed his chair in, a nasty smirk on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He stared at his textbook, waiting for him to leave. When he did, he put his books away and slung his bag over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He walked out of the library in a daze, turned a corner, and bumped into Mr. Tyler. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, hello, Anthony. You know, I’ve just checked my mailbox, and I gather that I have a surprise for you.” He winked and began walking towards his classroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “A-a surprise, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler approached his door, unlocked it, and let him in. “Yes. Sit down, boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> When he did, Mr. Tyler slapped down a Manila envelope onto his desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh-what’s this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Open it and find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Slowly, He flipped open the little flap on the top. Out slid several sheets of paper; he picked them up one by one and reshuffled them until they were in order again and read aloud:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “This is a notice from the International Writers Competition,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he paused and grinned. “It’s here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Keep going, Tony. I think you’re going to like what you read.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He frowned and kept going.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Congratulations….you have...received the grand place prize for your short story, Good Omens. We have discovered that you have an incredible talent for writing and would like to personally congratulate and welcome you at our headquarters in New York City…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>there was more, but he could barely see the words. His eyes were filled with tears, and for once, they were happy ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-I can’t believe it,” he whispered excitedly. “I won?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Keep going, it gets better,” Mr. Tyler mused. “I especially liked the second part.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He groaned but then read a little further. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The grand prize entails a cash prize of five thousand dollars and a publishing deal with our company….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He gasped, laid it down, and then picked it up again to stare in amazement. Quickly. he wiped at his eyes and laughed a little. “I kind of wish I hadn’t made you so cranky in the story,” both of them laughed before he set the envelope down. “I can’t believe it. I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler frowned. “What is it, boy? Is something bothering you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley shook his head, but Mr. Tyler was still frowning. “You know if there’s anything you want to tell me, you can, Anthony,” he said calmly. “I’m not just your teacher - I’m an adult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That doesn’t make it much better,” He murmured. Mr. Tyler smiled. “I know, but we are certainly not friends. You wouldn’t even know how to write a letter, now would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was about to shake his head in protest, but stopped. “Actually, I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler looked at him in shock. “Well, can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mail</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley bit his lip. “I can,” he winced at the memory of the last letter he’d actually mailed. He’d never gotten a response. “But it was a long time ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler chuckled. “A long time ago? You aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> old, boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It was long ago enough that I can barely remember it,” He said softly. “It was long ago enough that I was ten years younger, and it was long ago enough that for me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> is different now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler stared at him and sighed. “Everything? Is the air you breathe any different? Or-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Mr. Tyler,” Crowley’s voice had gone deathly cold. “Drop it. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You can’t avoid your past forever, young man,” Mr. Tyler motioned to an old photo on his desk. “That there is my sister. You know, when she died, I put off going to her grave for weeks. Months, even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And what? Did she magically appear when you decided to go?” Crowley snapped. He stood up to leave, but sat back down. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler nodded. “I understand.” He waited until the anger seemed to drain out of his system before he continued. “She didn’t come back, Anthony. But I was able to accept that when I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He thought about that for a moment and nodded. “I figured.” He gave the Manila envelope a once over before shoving the papers back in. “D-do you think she would be proud of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Tyler gave him a small little grin. “I think so. But she would be wary of your gang of cronies, I can tell you that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley snorted. “Thanks, Mr. Tyler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anytime, Anthony.” As Crowley began to pack up his things, the bell rang. “And one more thing. You’re a very bright young man, and I’m sure you’ll do great things in life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, um...thanks. I’ll see you around, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes - see you later, Anthony.” Mr. Tyler said as he waved him goodbye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “So..Gabriel Connor. What can I do for you?” Principal Frances asked warily. The boy across from her shifted in his seat as if he were extremely vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Something told her he wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, recently I have been under attack. In the past few months-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hold on,” Frances said, waving her hands to stop him. “This has been going on for </span>
  <em>
    <span>months</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Why haven’t I heard anything before? Why didn’t you come to talk to me ages ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabe sighed and pulled a tissue out of his pocket. “I’m glad you asked. I’ve just been so...miserable. It’s been so, so hard getting up everyday. And, what’s worse is that my sister has been dating that...that </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ezra-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wait a minute,” Frances murmured, reaching for a notepad. “What does your sisters love life have to do with any of this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He’s...he’s manipulating her-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh-huh,” Frances murmured as she began writing on the notepad. “So, do you have any proof?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er…” Gabriel paused for thought, and then remembered his promise to Crowley. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But did it extend to Ezra, too?</span>
  </em>
  <span> By Bea’s word, he wasn’t supposed to let anything bad happen to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But she hadn’t anything about Ezra. “He um...he started all of these horrible posts posts about me online, on this gossip forum some of us created-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Let me get this straight,” Frances said carefully. “You come into my office, throwing around accusations without definitive proof, and on top of that you want me to look into a gossip website that you helped make. Is that clear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s..um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No?” Frances asked, pushing the notebook towards him. “Am I correct or not, Mr. Connor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Y-you are,” Gabe muttered. “But let’s get one thing right that you have wrong. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have proof, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Frances smiled. “Perfect. Once you have that, I’m sure we can start an investigation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “A-an investigation?” Gabe repeated. “Like...into who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, everyone involved. Only so that it’s fair, of course. We wouldn’t want to falsely accuse anyone, now would we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She poked the notebook and handed him a pencil. “Now, can you give me any exact dates? People you believe might have also been involved, perhaps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabe grit his teeth. “I don’t think I’m obligated to give you that now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Listen to me,” Frances said sharply, slamming her hand on the desk. “I will not tolerate this behavior. Either tell me or you can take your whiny sob story and get the hell out of my office. And don’t you dare pull this on anyone else, you hear me? When you get into the real world, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going to play by your rules and your rules only. When you’re in my office, you play by my rules because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> run this school. It’s my job, and it’s my job to keep you students in check. As a student, it’s your job to act decently, but obviously someone has failed you along the way. We’re not playing games anymore, Connor. You’re an adult. So act like it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gabriel stared at her in shock, amazement, and then horror. He grabbed his things and rushed out of the room. His blood was boiling - no - it was burning. He turned the corners, an idea already forming in his mind. </span>
</p><p><span> He was betting everything that it would work. Because if </span>it didn’t, he was out of options. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>if i had a bunch of money i would probably bet against Gabriel, I just hate him so much in this fanfiction, like he’s not even okay like he is in my other fics he’s just an asshole so I’m sorry that he has no character whatsoever here</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. There’s A Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Ezra parked his car near the local park. He and Crowley often went there to chat, but they’d always been on edge ever since that night. It was one of the few memories he shared with Anthony that made him smile. </p><p> He was fairly nervous; it was Saturday and he needed to be prepared for the seminar he was about to give at the church the following morning. </p><p> What he needed was a walk to clear his thoughts. </p><p> “Right,” he said to himself, getting out of the car. “Just a walk, and I’ll be tiptop again.”</p><p> He walked hurriedly down the path, but then slowed. <em> I’m not going anywhere. There’s no one here but me. </em>Suddenly, he felt at ease, and almost came to a complete stop. </p><p> It seemed to Ezra that Crowley was constantly on his mind. No matter where he went, or who he was with, or what he was doing, Crowley would drift in and out, never leaving, as though he was part of him and meant to be there. </p><p> As if he were a part of <em> him </em>. </p><p> Taking a detour, he decided to take an old, worn out path - he knew it was there, because he knew the park well; he and his father had gone down it many, many times. </p><p> He knew it like one of his favorite books - he knew what was coming ahead. He knew where the path would lead him, even though it wasn’t there anymore.</p><p> All of a sudden, a twig snapped behind him. He turned around in surprise and then confusion.</p><p> “Hello?”</p><p> Nothing. </p><p> He continued to walk, but kept his eyes locked on the ground. When he heard another branch snap, he shuddered and turned to see Gabriel standing there.</p><p> “Gabe? Wh-what on Earth on you doing here?” </p><p> “Oh, lovely to see you,” Gabriel snarled. “No, ‘Nice to see you?’ I thought you were better than that, Ezra.”</p><p> “I’m terribly sorry, Gabe,” He pouted slightly, to give the impression that it was true. “I was just so surprised when you turned up.”</p><p> “Of course,” Gabriel was smiling again. It felt almost...plastic, in a way. Unnatural. “Why don’t we take a walk together, hm? For old times sake?”</p><p> “Yes,” Ezra muttered, allowing him some space to walk alongside him. “Sounds lovely.”</p><p> Once they were around a few bends, Gabriel turned around, slamming him against the tree with his fists.</p><p><em>  “What-Gabriel?! </em> Stop! Get off me!” </p><p><em>  “No. </em> Cut the crap, Fell. I know what you’re doing - you got me out of the youth group. You pushed me out by <em> force </em> . What other choice did I have? Hm? How would you like it, Ezra, if I went around calling you...you..a <em> faggot </em> until everyone in school believed it? Hm? How would you like that?”</p><p> “Th-that’s not...you can’t compare yourself to me,” Ezra said quietly. “Don’t you <em> ever </em> compare yourself to me. I <em> never </em> pushed you out of there. The only thing I did was ask questions. The rest just followed suit. Every person in power in all of history has been challenged before, Gabriel. All for different reasons. That’s all I did - challenge your authority.”</p><p> “Oh, and everything else that happened wasn’t because of that? I’ve lost <em> everything </em> because of you,” Gabriel shouted, tightening his grip on Ezra’s clothes. “Even my fucking sister. <em> You’ve stolen all of it </em>.”</p><p> “I’m sorry that you feel this way,” he said carefully. “But obviously I wasn’t the only one who was tired of how you treated the sermons, or the seminars - can’t you see that you’re not perfect? We all make mistakes, Gabriel, but you never gave any of us a chance. That’s why we-”</p><p> “Shut up!” Gabriel howled, kicking his ankle. Ezra could feel the harsh, pebbly ground cut into his skin. He groaned, rubbed his head, and looked up to see Gabriel standing over him, rock in hand. His breathing was erratic; he looked...different. </p><p> “If you’re going to hit me, I suggest you do it now,” Ezra muttered as he propped himself up. Gabriel stared at the rock, then at him, and threw it at a nearby tree instead. “I’m really sorry, Ezra, but you deserved it.”</p><p> His mouth agape, Ezra stood and stared at him incredulously. <em> “I deserve this?! </em> Are you mad, Gabe?” </p><p> “I don’t think you understand,” Gabriel spike slowly, as if he was too stupid to understand him otherwise. “I am not just a messenger of God. I’m not here to tell fairy stories. I am part <em> of </em> God.” Ezra shook his head, and took two steps backwards. “No...no, Gabriel...I don’t think you’re well. A-are you drunk?”</p><p> “Don’t you see? I’m right - you have to listen to me, Ezra. Those missing yearbooks - I stole them.”</p><p> “I’m not surprised,” he muttered, wiping away some blood from his cheek. </p><p> “They said they were from the fifties. Well, I looked in them and there was a prediction sheet that said Armageddon was going to happen. This year.” Ezra could feel the cool bark of a tree against his hands as he itched to get away from Gabriel. He watched as he dug into his jeans and pulled out a ragged piece of paper. </p><p> “Do you see that?” Gabriel asked hurriedly, handing it to him. He pointed at all the things written down. </p><p> Now, being that Ezra was a purveyor of old books and the other odd written work, the first thing he noticed was that the paper was new. (‘New’ in Ezra’s book meant that it was under fifty years old.) </p><p> The second thing he noticed was that, although it was crumpled, it smelled fairly fresh. The ink on the page was newer too, or at least newer than what you would find looking at a 300 year old letter written with a calligraphy pen. </p><p> The third thing he noticed was the handwriting. </p><p> And then something snapped within him. </p><p> “Where did you get this?” He said quickly, holding up the small sheet. Gabriel furrowed his brow. “I said I got it in a yearbook - now give it back, I <em> need it- </em>” he groaned as Ezra kneed him in the groin.</p><p> “So sorry, Gabe!” Ezra called as he hurried away. “Talk to you later!” </p><p>-</p><p>  The first thing Ezra did when he knew he was far away from Gabriel was get a cup of cocoa. Once he sat down in a local shop near Shadwell’s bookstore, he grabbed a nearby pen, wrote a few things down on the back of the sheet, looked it over four more times, stared at the writing, and then pulled out his phone.</p><p> The dial tone rang for only a few moments before he could hear Crowley yelling at someone in the background. </p><p> “Bad time?” He asked nervously, wincing as he heard a crashing noise. <em> What the heavens is going on over there?  </em></p><p> “Never for you,” Crowley responded breathlessly. “You can go ahead now. Everything’s good.” </p><p> “Are you sure?”</p><p> “Oh, for- just get on with it, angel.”</p><p> “Did you ever take one of the yearbooks?”</p><p><em>  “What? </em> Angel, I-”</p><p> “Crowley, Gabriel just showed me a page with your handwriting on it. He told me it was from the yearbook. Did you or did you not have one of them at any time at all?”</p><p> Crowley sighed. “Okay, yes, alright. I checked <em> one </em> of them out - but it was <em> only </em> once. Never stole it.” </p><p> Ezra let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God…”</p><p> “Wait a minute, what were you doing with Gabriel?”</p><p> “It’s a long story. Anyhow, he went on and on about...well, a lot of things, actually, but he said that Armageddon was coming, and something about...God. It was rather odd to see him like that-”</p><p> He was suddenly cut off by laughter. “What?”</p><p> Crowley stopped to take in deep, heavy breaths before speaking. “He found my notes, didn’t he?”</p><p> “N-notes? What do you mean, notes?”</p><p> “Well, it's probably an even longer story than whatever the hell you had in mind, but...it was for a book. A story. I’ve been working on it for a long time, but I just now-”</p><p> Ezra gasped. “Oh- oh, Crowley, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you!”</p><p> He could already see Crowley shaking his head. “Blegh - I don’t wanna hear it. It turned out bad, I think, plot was messy...you wouldn’t have liked it.”</p><p> “I would have to be the judge of that,” Ezra said, beaming ear-to-ear. “Wait - these are your notes for the <em> story </em>?” </p><p> “Well...yeah. I mean, that’s why it’s funny, right?”</p><p> “N-no...it wouldn’t be funny at all. Crowley, Gabriel thinks all of what you wrote was a bunch of predictions for the future.”</p><p> “Predictions?” Crowley began to laugh harder than before, and just a few moments later, Ezra could hear a loud <em> thump </em> on the floor. “Ow…”</p><p> “You fell off the bed, didn’t you?”</p><p> “It was worth it. What a crackhead,” Crowley started laughing again, but suddenly fell silent. “Crowley?” Ezra asked. “You there?”</p><p> “If he thinks that all of that nonsense were predictions, then…” in horror, Ezra realized what he meant. He read what Crowley had written again and groaned. “Why didn’t you specify anything? Anyone could have found this, Crowley!”</p><p> “Come on, angel, it’s not that bad-”</p><p> “All you wrote under <em> Shadwell </em> was ‘Unintelligible Accent’ and for <em> Book-Girl </em> you wrote ‘Gets hit with my car.’”</p><p> “Okay, but it’s not like anyone is actually going to believe any of that, right? Gabriel’s just...messing around, right?”</p><p> “I don’t think so, dearest,” he read over the list again and sighed. “He seemed very serious when I...talked to him.”</p><p> “Wait. Did he <em> hurt </em> you?” </p><p> “What? No - of-of course not!”</p><p> “I don’t trust him, angel. D’you think he believes the other stuff?”</p><p> “What other stuff?”</p><p> “You know, the four horsemen? Greasy Johnson?”</p><p> “What do you mean? I don’t see any of that written here,” he murmured, flipping over the page again. “Wait. Is there <em> another </em> page?”</p><p> “Another page? I’m missing about ten, angel,” Crowley said, his voice gravely serious. “I’m glad you called, but there’s no use. He has them.”</p><p> Ezra sat back in his seat in awe. “Why didn’t you take them with you when you were done?”</p><p> “...I didn’t think they were important, and then when I went back to get them, the yearbooks were gone. I think the next morning is when they found out they were missing, and I guess I was the first target because…”</p><p> “Because you looked at them, and because you aren’t Gabriel,” he finished for him, looking at the paper in wonder. “Have you got a few minutes?”</p><p> “Sure,” Crowley said. “Can you give me a half hour?”</p><p> “Of course,” He smiled, glad that he could finally see him in person. “Which one?”</p><p> “Third.”</p><p> “Now is that the-”</p><p> “That's the bandstand, angel,” Crowley chuckled. “Haven’t you been able to remember after all these years?” He teased. </p><p> “Oh, stop,” Ezra murmured, his smile etching farther into his skin. “I’ll see you there. We can...talk.”</p><p> “Of course, angel.”</p><p> “See you there, dearest.”</p><p> Crowley hung up first, as usual. Ezra felt his neck burn as he thought of him; but it quickly faded away when he winced at the pain from where he’d hit the ground.</p><p> He wished Gabriel wasn’t so...aggressive. </p><p> He didn’t like that side of him.</p><p> <em> But what other side is there?  </em></p><p> He tried to remember, but couldn’t. <em> Maybe I’m just even more forgetful than usual, </em> he could remember Gabriel telling him that he was an idiot for being clumsy, or saying something that he thought to be out of line, or just being...himself. <em> No, Gabriel’s… </em></p><p>
  <em>  Gabriel isn’t right. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  He never was.  </em>
</p><p> He tried to shake the thoughts away, but they didn’t leave. He almost welcomed them, because he relished in them. He felt sick, even, for just enjoying it, for enjoying finding the flaws in Gabriel, for enjoying telling him he was dead <em> wrong.  </em></p><p> He took one last sip of his cocoa and read over the list one last time before he left:</p><p> </p><p>ARMAGEDDON HAPPENS!! comes w/ boy (but how old??) </p><p>
  <em> Shadwell:  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Unintelligible Accent.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Book Girl: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gets Hit With My Car </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Newt and BookGirl </em>
</p><p>
  <em> My Angel  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gabriel, Micheala, Uriel, Sandy—&gt;Sandalphon??? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> My Car ——&gt; BENTLEY! (1920s??)  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Beatrice (Beezelbub) Freddie + Ligur + Annie  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Plants + Aliens :) </em>
</p><p> </p><p> Stuffing the note into his pocket, he rushed out of the door to his car - he was ready for anything. He just didn’t know what yet. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>what an exiting chapter lol<br/>let me know what you thought of this :) this is one of my favorites because even though so much goes on I feel like Ezra and Crowley still support each other<br/>(dont worry the bandstand scene won’t happen next chapter in case you need to prepare for it)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley hung up the phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That rotten, smiling bastard has my notes...</span>
  </em>
  <span> He rubbed his temples, overwrought with too many things to think about and not enough time to put them off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He had to meet with Freddie and Ligur today. He would probably spend the night at Ligur’s house, talking about their plans and the robbery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> They’d been preparing for years for this to happen. Years. And now he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nervous? </span>
  </em>
  <span>What was wrong with him? Him, Ligur, and Freddie were about to become rich, and there he sat in his room, nervous and...something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He pulled out the Manila envelope from his desk drawer and opened it up. He’d won the five thousand, alright, but it would be months before he could get it. Ages, even - and he’d probably have to use it towards rent or some other expense once he moved out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> If his dad even let him move out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, what does he care? If he did, he would spend time with me. He would have been there when mum passed. He would have taken me to the funeral. He would have…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span> There was no use thinking about it. Glumly, he dragged himself out of his room and stumbled into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and groaned. He looked like shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Might as well take a shower…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He started to take off his shirt, but thought of what Freddie had asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> “You’d better start looking for it,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s on for this Sunday.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span> The gun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>How am I going to do this right? I’ve never even handled one before. I’ve never...I’ve never…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>The bank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>All of a sudden, he felt terrified. No, it was something else, something more menacing, because he could sense it swelling in droves, his sides wobbling and shaking until he came crashing into the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>You’re just like your dad, you know that? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Shit…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Why are you so scared? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> “Are you gay? Is that it? Do you like wearing women’s clothes?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> “Just know that bitch didn’t raise you. I did.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He gasped and shook harder, his chest heaving up and down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I’m dying. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He tried to slow down his breathing but it didn’t work. He choked on nothing and he felt his head spinning. When he tried to stand up again, he was too nauseous and fell back again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I’m gonna die-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>As he continued to tremble on the freezing tile, he was aware of his throat closing but not much more. Everything felt so distant and far away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I can’t breathe. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>His breathing seemed to escalate until beads of sweat dropped onto the floor. Slowly, some of the chills began to subside, and he began to regain consciousness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>The next five minutes or so became a fuzzy blur as he lay there shaking, trying to call out for someone but not being able to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Gripping the edge of the sink, he lifted himself upwards and staggered out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Unfortunately it was harder than he’d expected. He felt drained and exhausted, like he’d just run a marathon that had gone on for far too long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He was at his limit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Propping himself against the wall, he pulled a leather jacket off the rack, forcing himself to put it on. It was going to be a long, cold night, and he wasn’t about to leave his (only) jacket at the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> As he walked outside towards the shed, he realized he was still slightly dizzy, and lost his balance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ow</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Hey, You alright, Crowley?” He heard someone yell from across the street. Oh. It was Beatrice. “M’fine!” He yelled. “Just a little tired.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He watched from the ground as Bea ran over. “Did you break anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “What? No…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Ugh. I was hoping I could take a picture.” She eyed him for a moment before offering a hand. He stared at her, confused, before she yanked him up from the muddy soil. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “It’s for the makeup,” she explained. “Where you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Out,” he muttered. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I was cutting up my dad's roses. He’d been tryin’ to spruce up the place for his new...whatever she is to him, and...why are you giving me that look?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He smiled weakly. “You don’t do that thing anymore with your z’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> She reddened, obviously embarrassed, and elbowed him in the ribs. “Whatever. I’ve been...working on it. With my boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He stared at her in awe. “Sorry...I have to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Really? You sure you’re okay? You look...erm..pale. At least, more than usual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “N-no…” he murmured. There had to be something in the air, because her voice had a distinct tinny quality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He rolled his bike out of the shed and straddled himself on. “See you later, Bea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> As he rode, he tried to focus on the handles, hoping it would stop all the unwanted thoughts from floating in. It didn’t work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Maybe...maybe I’m just like my mum. Dad was right. I’m going to end up just like her, locked away in a home with no one to talk to because I’m crazy. And there’s nothing I can do. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> How can I even explain this to Ezra? Dad was right. Nobody’ll ever love a freak like me. He can’t love me - I’m too much of a mess. He won’t wanna clean me up. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> What’s happening to me? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m sorry this was so short but I felt that this deserved its own chapter. </p>
<p>Also - today was my last day of school (you’re now looking at a high school sophomore lmao) so I’ll probably be writing a lot more (slow claps)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Come Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Ezra parked his car and gradually, as if not wanting to go through with it, walked towards the grandstand. He flipped open his phone to check the time and grimaced. Crowley was ten minutes late. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where the devil could he be?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>A minute later, he could identify a flash of red and black, and sighed happily. The familiar lanky figure hopped off their bike, letting it crash into some nearby bushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Are you sure it’ll be alright?” He asked nervously, peering out over the edge. “You seem to have been crashing into things lately with that thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Nahhh,” Crowley replied, staggering towards him. Ezra turned to him and frowned. “Are you drunk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Me? Never. No, just...er...tired, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You always say you’re tired, dearest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m not lying, either,” Crowley hummed, leaning against a pillar. “So. Why do you want to talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What do you think?!” He snapped, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a long..well, it’s only 1 PM, so, a long afternoon, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Is this about Gabriel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s about everything, dearest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Listen, do you know how to fix this?” He murmured, pulling the notes out of his bag. Crowley grabbed them and stared, his face twisted into a grim scowl. Shoving them into his jacket pocket, he looked back up to Ezra, his expression saying everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We may not have enough power to stop Gabriel, Crowley, but you know that you can’t go and see Ligur and Freddie. I’ve thought it over, and it’s too dangerous-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You don’t know what’s dangerous to me, angel,” Crowley griped. “I know you - there’s no chance in the world you’d ever like a guy like me. You think this is a game, or something? That this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>funny?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley - what in God's name are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “There you go again about God!” Crowley yelled, kicking one of the pillars. “We both know it’s a load of bollocks! All of that muck about the Great Plan-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Crowley!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>At the sound of his name for the second time, Crowley did turn to look at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“I’m trying to cooperate with you. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>help </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I doubt any good will come from it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Good never comes from what I do,” Crowley snarled. “And don’t try to refute that one. You don’t know what I’ve done, and trust me, you don’t want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He bit his lip. He lowered his head until he knew Crowley wouldn’t be able to see his tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We can work together. You and me,” he whispered. “Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What, like sides?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He wiped at his eyes and looked up. “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused bitterly. “I was hoping we were, you know, on our own side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley propelled himself forward, a fiery swarm of maddening anger. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Our</span>
  </em>
  <span> side?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well...yes,” Ezra said quietly. “Aren’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We aren’t on our side,” Crowley shot back, practically on top of him now, his intensity completely electric. “We never were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What-what are you talking about?” For just an instant, Ezra wondered who he was looking at. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I judge him too soon? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He laughed to himself bitterly. They’d known each other almost ten years now. A decade. He’d judged him a long time ago. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> who his friend was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Listen to me, Ezra. Did you think this would ever work?” Crowley asked, gesturing between them. Ezra didn’t break eye contact. He knew how to hold his ground. “I know you do too, dearest,” he said softly. “I know you care. I know you like me. I know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, I never liked you,” Crowley snapped, but Ezra could not mistake that there was affection laden behind his words, and as horrible as he felt and as angry as he was, it let him know that under all that stone, Crowley was still there. “You do.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Whatever. I’m going.” Crowley growled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know there isn’t anywhere to go,” Ezra began, but trailed off as he bit back tears. This wasn’t how he’d planned things to go. He saw Crowley shake his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“There’s plenty of places for me. For a start, there’s Ligur’s house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Is this really how you want things to go?” He watched as Crowley looked away and turned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. It isn’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There were too many unspoken agreements between them, too many stories, too many times where they’d pushed and pulled and just as they’d come to a realization, it was over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t need you,” Crowley trembled as he spoke; the timbre of his voice was unsteady and he wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I hope you have a lovely time raising up all your little minions at that bloody fucking church.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Don’t forget your gun,” Ezra divulged, lowering his voice to a hum. Crowley stood there for a minute before storming off to retrieve his bike. He watched as Crowley stopped to glance at him after he got on, and then sped away as if it never happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know…” he began to say something he couldn’t express with words, so instead, he walked back to his car with his mind almost made up and a new plan in its place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Crowley stumbled off of his bike and hurried towards the backyard. He counted the steps like he always did, stopped at twenty-eight, and dug out the gun with his bare hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When he could feel the metal against his skin, he breathed a sigh of relief. He picked it up, and started to walk away from the clearing, but stopped. He held it against his temple, his fingers far from the trigger, but still supporting it, still keeping it in its place. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>You’re a horrible son. You treat me like shite, and then you expect me to let you out?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>You deserve this.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>You-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Is this really how you want things to go? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>His grip on the handle faltered a bit at the sound of Ezra’s voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, it isn’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The gun dropped from his hands as he started kicking the dirt back into the hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I didn’t mean to</span>
  <em>
    <span>-Goddamnit!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He yelled, collapsing into the grass. “Fuck!” He rolled over onto his side, grabbed the gun, and shoved it into his jacket. Forcing himself to get up, he kicked some more dirt around before pacing around the clearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He needed time to think, but he didn’t have enough of it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I can’t persuade them, I may as well play along. What’s that saying? If you can’t beat ‘em…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Join ‘em. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Crowley licked his lips before sauntering out of the woods. He could see his father's car in the driveway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Great. He’ll know that I’m out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Glancing up and down the desolate street, he walked across the road towards Ligur’s house. He knocked on the door and was surprised when Freddie answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah, you’re early. Good. Come in,” he said, stepping off the side. When he saw him in the light, he frowned. “What’s happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Eh...you look...funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “How so?” Crowley muttered, looking around the room. Freddie scowled and pulled out his lighter. “Paler, I guess….” Freddie lit a cigarette, and offered it to him. He shook his head. “No thanks, I’m off that stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie looked almost impressed. “Why? I didn’t think I’d ever see you turn one down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah...I’m doing it for this, um…”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Oh,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Freddie grinned and slapped him on the back, just like Bea would have done. “It’s for a girl, innit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh...yeah. A girl,” Crowley said flatly. “Hey, where’s Ligur?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He went out to get us some beer. Aren’t you excited? We’re gonna become </span>
  <em>
    <span>rich</span>
  </em>
  <span> tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley flashed him a fake smile. “Of course. Can’t wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You brought the gun, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yep, sure, got it,” he said quickly, suddenly realizing something. “Hey, Uh, you don’t mind if I ask or anything but do you guys both have guns too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie blinked. “I don’t. Ligur might, though. He’s more of an expert on...these kinds of things. I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He is?” Crowley asked, gritting his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Prob’bly. His dad used to handle them. He’d know the ins and outs, as they say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh-huh,” he mumbled, barely focusing now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh shit. Oh shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He could feel his hands shaking. “Hey, do you wanna hang out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie shrugged. “If you want,” The bell rang, which made him shudder even more. “Jesus, what’s up with you?” He shook his head and opened the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah, Tony. You joined us,” Ligur said menacingly, walking around them to slump onto the couch. He set a bag down on the table and motioned for them to sit down opposite him. “Relax, boys. We’re gonna be swimming in money tomorrow.” He grinned, his pearly teeth shining and gleaming. At once, Crowley felt sick. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why did it feel so...disingenuous all of a sudden? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Crowley. Why the long face? Don’t you want a beer?” He offered, gesturing to the bag. “I got it for </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us. We can </span>
  <em>
    <span>share.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“I-” he began, but got cut off by Freddie. “Oh, I wouldn’t offer it to him. Says he’s off cigarettes for some girl. I bet he won’t even take a sip of the stuff, huh, Tony?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Crowley,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he corrected, staring straight at Ligur now. “But yes, Freddie’s right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur narrowed his eyes, but he continued to plaster on the perfect smile. “Is that so?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur’s grin didn’t weaken, instead, it widened, and that seemed to make it all the more horrible to look at. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He looks like a toad. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Well, good on you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crowley</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I suppose this </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be happy with you going out and seein’ your mates, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley understood what he was insinuating. He shoved his fists into his pockets and pushed everything he wanted to say into the back of his mind. “She’s very happy, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m impressed,” Ligur said, grabbing a bottle from the bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Now,” he managed to get the cap off and took a long, slow sip. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I thought I’d posted this chapter this morning and then realized I hadn’t, oops</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Misery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> After he’d watched Crowley leave the grandstand, Ezra had walked back to his car, sure he could come up with something - and he did.</p><p> Ezra’s first plan was that he would go after him.</p><p> But after a solid two minutes of deliberation, he didn’t. He had to give Crowley time and space. If he’d wanted to have a real conversation, he would have had it with him at the grandstand and they wouldn’t be in this mess. <em> Right? </em> </p><p> Ezra wiped at his eyes and sniffed. He didn’t cry much. In fact, most of the time he only cried if he had to use his knife at the church. </p><p> <em> What a mess, </em> he thought miserably. <em> Crowley could get himself killed hanging out with those...those… </em></p><p> “Assholes.” Hs whispered, then promptly clamped a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t sworn since he’d attended that party with Micheal, but he gathered he’d been allowed a pass that night. <em> What rule was that, anyways? </em> </p><p> He leaned over his seat and grabbed his binder that he used for the group. He flipped to the back, slightly embarrassed he’d never really read the rules before.</p><p> “Wait a minute…” he went through each page and counted how many there were, and then went back to the first one. </p><p> In all his years of attending meetings, and writing things down, and organizing fundraisers, and paying attention to whatever Gabriel or a guest speaker had been teaching, had he thought to look in the rule book. </p><p> Rule 10 was no swearing. Rule 18 was no dating. Rule 31 was no dark colors or symbols. Rule 12, which was most interesting to Ezra, was no <em> conspiracy theories. </em> </p><p> Every single person who helped lead the group - Uriel, Sandy, Micheal, and Gabriel - had broken at least one of these rules. </p><p> He continued to go down the list, shocked at what he was reading. <em> Abstain from sexual contact. Abstain from alcohol at all times and at all costs. Abstain from the use of drugs and other evils. Do not bow down from your punishments. Do not blaspheme our name. Do not blaspheme our leader.  </em></p><p> Ezra smirked at the last one. He saw his reflection in the rear view mirror and realized something about himself: <em> I don’t need them.  </em></p><p>Looking down at the binder that lay in his lap, he made another decision. Suddenly exhilarated, he slammed it shut, laid it down on the passenger's seat, and drove to his house. </p><p> When he got inside, he walked towards the living room and saw Anathema, Newt, and Libby sitting on the floor by the fireplace playing a board game.</p><p> “Hey, Ezra,” Anathema murmured, staring at the row of plastic houses. “Where’ve you been?”</p><p> “N-nothing,” he said breathlessly. “Er-hello, Libby - Newt, is it?”</p><p> “Oh, yes it is,” said the boy awkwardly. “You know, Anathema has told me so much about you-”</p><p> “Newt, <em>it’s</em> <em>your turn</em>.” Anathema said sharply, giving him a look. </p><p> The other two kids stared at her for a moment before collectively jumping up from their spots. </p><p> “Sorry, we, er...have to go!” Libby said, grabbing Newts arm. “See you later, Ezra!”</p><p> Ezra stared at Anathema in confusion as she picked up all the pieces and placed them neatly into the box. </p><p> “Is everything alright?” He asked, glancing down the hallway. Anathema got up and smiled. </p><p> “I think so. You have fun throwing all that paper into the fire, okay?” said sweetly, and began walking out of the room. Ezra stared at her as she left, shocked, then turned his attention to the binder. “How...how did she know?”</p><p> He knew no one would answer. Taking a seat by the fireplace, he pulled out the papers one by one and laid them into the fire, watching them burn and crackle. It was amazing, but also bittersweet, to watch years of your life burn right before your eyes, to watch years and years of dedication and devotion vanish as if they never meant anything.</p><p> To Ezra, though, they did. Those years, as tough and as trying and as difficult as they had been, had meant something to him. They had given him a chance to grow up. They allowed that growth and welcomed the changes that came with it. And all that dedication, and all that devotion, as much as he hated thinking about it, made it possible. </p><p> He rolled up his sleeve to look at the last scar Gabriel would ever leave on his skin. It was still there, even after several months, and it would be for at least three or so more. There were different spots too; on the nape of his neck, his forearms, and Gabriel’s personal favorite: in the creases of the palm. </p><p> Ezra knew why. He always had. <em> It was because it didn’t show. </em> Now, as he watched the second to last paper burn, he felt sick. <em> How could I have let this go on for so long? There are so many kids in there, so many good kids who don’t deserve this. It isn’t right. </em></p><p> He almost laughed at that. <em> Right. </em> Time and time again, Gabriel had told him what was right and what was wrong. And each time, he had been wrong and Gabriel had been right. <em> And he believed him.  </em></p><p> He laid the last page on top of the firewood and decided he felt better. As he sat there, he had another realization: <em> Crowley was right. </em>From the beginning, he had been, and there was never any question about it. He felt like banging his head against the wall. </p><p> “How are you doing, Ezra?” He turned at the sound of his mother’s voice and grinned. “Hi, mum.”</p><p> “Anathema said you needed someone to talk to. Is everything okay?”</p><p> Ezra frowned. “I never told her that…”</p><p> His mother winked at him and sat down in his father's old chair. “You didn’t have to. She’s special, that way. What are you doing with your binder? Isn’t that the one you use for your church thing?”</p><p> Ezra looked down at the binder, and then at her. “Not anymore.”</p><p> “I’m glad,” she said cheerfully. “You were always going down there, hanging out with those kids...I don’t think I ever saw you after…”</p><p> Neither of them had to say it. The silence spoke for them, allowing a break in the conversation. </p><p> “Just know that I love you very much, Ezra. No matter what you do or what you like or <em> who </em> you like, I’ll love you.”</p><p> Ezra beamed. “Thanks, mum.”</p><p> “Of course,” she got up from the chair, but stopped. She was frowning. Ezra did too, and stood up, to reach out, to hold her. “Is everything alright?”</p><p> She smiled again, to reassure him that it was. “I’ll see you at dinner,” and walked away. Ezra retreated back to his spot in front of the fire, watching the flames curl and flicker until everything else just melted away. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> “Right,” Ligur was saying, calculating each word, calculating his next move. “We start on Hartford road and then stop once we pass Belgrave. You taking notes?” He pointed his finger at Crowley, who had sprawled onto the floor, his back resting against an old cabinet. </p><p> “Er...yeah. Probably got some paper on hand,” he muttered, and dug into his pockets. Ligur nodded, grabbed a pen, and tossed it to him. </p><p> “Good,” and then began ordering Freddie to do something, but it sort of faded into the back of Crowley’s mind. He’d found a piece of paper, sure enough, but it was the one Ezra had given him at the bandstand. </p><p> It was his page of notes, but there were a couple lines of handwriting on the back that wasn’t his. It was looping cursive - Ezra’s looping cursive. </p><p> When he’d been fairly young, his mother had enrolled him in a writing course. It had done him well, because he could understand what the message said, and Ezra’s print wasn’t very neat to begin with. </p><p> Four times he read it over, before biting down on the cap to pull it off.</p><p> “Crowley. I assume you’ve been practicing with the gun?”</p><p> “Mhm,” Crowley muttered, scrawling a note to himself underneath, not looking up at the boy before him once. “Sure.”</p><p> “You look at me when I talk to you-” </p><p> “Ligur, chill out, man - he’s just takin’ notes, right, Crowley?”</p><p> “I asked him to listen, this is <em> serious,” </em>Ligur growled. “Or have you not been here to know that?”</p><p> Crowley cringed. That was low - and he could tell from the silence that Freddie knew it too. </p><p> “Alright, look at me, then, Crowley.” Ligur ordered. When he didn’t respond, he inches closer towards him and peered down at him, watching as he used his knees to help support the page. “Crowley?”</p><p> “Give me a second, guys-”</p><p> Ligur lunged forward, attempting to grab the paper from his hands, but fell onto his side as Crowley flung himself farther away. </p><p> “Oh-you’re gonna get a first in the eye for that,” he snarled. “Why can’t you ever listen?”</p><p> “I can listen just fine,” Crowley retorted, pressing his back against the cabinet. His hands drifted downwards, trying to appear unassuming as possible. He could see Freddie’s terrified eyes jerk from him to Ligur’s ominous, sharp stare. “I’m taking notes, aren’t I?”</p><p> “You’re a bloody bastard,” Ligur muttered, straightening himself up. “I know you’re hiding something. I know you - you’re a weasel. Always have been-”</p><p> “Ligur, no need to get hasty,” Freddie cut in, but Ligur knocked him down with his fist, then a knee to his stomach. “Shut it. Now,” he said, turning to Crowley, who’d edged closer to the door. “You could be very helpful to me tomorrow, Anthony. But you’re not cooperating with me. So. Do you want to hand that to me?”</p><p> He glanced down at the now wrinkled paper. His hands were gripping it so harshly, shaking so uncontrollably, that he knew Ligur knew he was terrified, and that just made him more scared. Ligur didn't wait, though, and leaned forward, grabbing Crowley by the collar. </p><p> He tried to snatch the paper from his hands, but it tore in half, only leaving him with part of the message. He stared at it, and then Crowley. </p><p> “What’s a Shadwell?”</p><p> Crowley gulped. “I d-dunno.”</p><p> Ligur flipped it around, taking notice of the horror in Crowley’s face. His lips curled into a grin as he read the first two lines to himself. </p><p> “I knew it.”</p><p> He looked up, ready to expose Anthony J. Crowley for the bastard that he was, ready to expose him to no one in particular. Instead, his eyes grew wide at what he saw.</p><p> Crowley had assumed the position of a soldier. A soldier, ready for battle. A soldier, reminiscent of their past battles, a soldier ready for their next, a soldier that knew what was coming, a soldier that had seen pain, and knew pain, and most importantly, a soldier with his gun pointed straight at the enemy.</p><p> Anthony J. Crowley was a soldier. He had been brought up like one; he’d been through his own training. More than ever, he was ready. </p><p> He took a swift breath and let go. There was no one there to stop him, no one there to pull him away, and no one there to get angry. There was no one there to throw their beer bottle at him. There was no one there to smash plates at his feet. </p><p> He was not doing this for Ezra, but for himself. </p><p> “Don’t move,” he whispered, steadying his hand. “Or you’ll regret it.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope you enjoyed :) kudos + comments always appreciated ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Tell Me Why</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ligur stared at the gun. Crowley could tell he wasn’t worried anymore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur wasn’t worried. Rather, he was anticipating what was to come next. He waited and Crowley watched, like a game of cat and mouse, except without the contrived chase around the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day where Anthony Crowley would hold me at gunpoint,” Ligur mused. “Well, then. I guess it’s not a fair fight unless I’ve got one too, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley gaped as he turned and dug a sleek, modern pistol out from a heaping pile of clothes and garbage that had collected on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ve been keeping this one in safe keeping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie was right. Ligur did know his guns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “W-where’d you get it?” Crowley asked casually, not once lowering his arm. Ligur grinned. “My dad, where else? Lovely bastard, givin’ me his gun.” He checked to see if it was loaded, and it was. He shot him another grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Of course,” Crowley aimed his a little higher and squinted. “Is it fair enough now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur smirked. “Was it ever?” Without warning, he raised his gun and aimed it at Crowley, his finger already on the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> All he had to do was pull and release.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It doesn’t have to come to this, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know it doesn’t.” Crowley snapped. “But after what I’ve read and seen and done today, I’m sure as hell ready to give in. The world doesn’t need any more Ligur Mitchell’s in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur looked almost impressed. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really want to shoot me? Go ahead. You’ll be in a cell, just like Freddie, but ten times worse and you’ll be serving for life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t care about that,” Crowley said, raising his voice and his arm. “If I did, I wouldn’t be doing this, now would I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And what about your little lover, hm?” He asked, holding up the ripped note. “Don’t you want to be there with them?” Crowley grimaced. Ligur kept going, kept prodding, kept cowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “How sweet that they wrote you a note - I do think its funny, when they said… ‘I know it’s impossible to take them down…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But we can do it together,” Crowley finished. “You forgot that,” and held up his half of the note as proof. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re on our own side.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And you know something, Ligur?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wassat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I think he’s right,” and aimed his gun at Ligur’s arm. “Don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  He pulled the trigger, but the bullet went through the window. At the sound of the shot, Freddie began to stir; luckily, he wasn’t awake yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You bloody bastard…” Ligur barked, pulling himself back up, trying to pull himself together. “You’re dying tonight. I swear by that, you’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Crowley shrugged. “Eh, wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told me that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ligur lurched forward, toppling Crowley to the ground. He lay there, in anguish, realizing his gun wasn’t in his hand, and Ligur had already swooped down to grab it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He kicked his ankle, hoping it would knock him down, but in the spur of the moment fired the gun. Crowley could feel it graze his side, could feel the sharp, shooting, burning sensation traveling down his through the length of his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, what’s the matter? You don’t like it, do you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>freak?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley tried to speak, but couldn’t; at this point, Freddie had woken up, and was rubbing his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What’s goin’ on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “This,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ligur dropped the gun and began kicking him in the fleshy space under his ribs, then in the stomach, and then right by the waist. This time, the pain didn’t sting as much. It just lingered far too long, and he could sense his eyes watering, the tears dripping onto the floor. </span>
</p><p><span> Crowley knew Freddie was watching.</span> <span>And yet he didn’t do a single thing to stop either of them</span><em><span>. Bastard.</span></em><span> “Fuck…”</span></p><p>
  <span> “I warned you, Crowley. But you didn’t listen.” Freddie winced as he gave him one last rattling kick to the chest. “Is he gonna be alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Of course he is, ain't you, Crowley?” Ligur asked tauntingly, lowering himself to one knee so he could look him in the eye. He was barely aware of his surroundings, delirious from the pain; it was belittling to face him after what he’d been put through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I just don’t understand,” Freddie thought aloud. “Why...why we do this to one another? When did we get like this? I thought you were my friend, Ligur…”</span>
</p><p> Something in what Freddie said alerted Crowley. </p><p>
  <span> “Isn’t this how friends act?” Ligur snapped, turning his attention to Freddie. “I invited you here. Let you in my room, even. I’m letting you come along with me tomorrow - giving you a share of the money. Would an enemy do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie twisted his frown and thought about it for a second. “I guess not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Alright,” Crowley croaked, having assumed his position against the dresser again. His hands were shaking, but he knew he wouldn’t fail this time. He couldn’t. “I’m going to do it. I’m in my rights now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “In your rights? What rights do you have?” Freddie scoffed. “What rights do any of us have, Crowley?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “For starters,” Crowley shuddered as he spoke, not daring to get up, not daring to escalate it any further than necessary. “You two. The bank. It’s off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Off?!” Ligur repeated. “Fine - I’ll snap your bloody neck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Two. Threats and violence,” his voice was close to a whisper now. Ligur shook his head. “No. You started it, you pointed the gun at me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Don’t you fucking dare,” Crowley spat. “Because I know you, Ligur. You bully me, you belittle me, and you do everything in your power to tell yourself that you have all of it. But you don’t - neither of you do. Kick me all you want. Hit me all you want. But I will stand my ground.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Right, then. On with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You don’t want it,” he muttered. “You’re going to hate it. Well. I could be wrong. You might fit in very well, down there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Down where?” Ligur demanded. Freddie nodded, obviously confused too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hell,” and then, without warning, he pulled the trigger. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Crowley lifted himself from the floor and shoved the gun into his jacket pocket. It didn’t fit well, but he had no other options. His whole body felt split open and torn like never before. Freddie only continued to scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Y-you’ve gone bloody mental...I’ve seen some..some serious shit, before, b-but - </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oh, you’re the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>vile</span>
  </em>
  <span> creature I’ve ever seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah? So was he.” Crowley jerked his head toward Ligur’s now limp body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie lowered his hand from his mouth. He hadn’t yet calmed down; he was entirely and completely besides himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Why-why the hell did you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He was using you - you know he wanted all the money to himself. None of </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> mattered. It wasn’t mutual, even if we could have helped him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What kind of excuse is that?” Freddie seethed. “Oh, you’re going down. I’m going to report you and make sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Anthony J. Crowley, are </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to see the light of day again. Or your little </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whoever he is.” He turned to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie sounds around. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I have one round left. You could end up like...that,” Crowley said quickly, withdrawing the gun. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This has to work. This has to work. This has to work. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“But only if you do what I say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie stared at the nozzle for a moment before eyeing Crowley up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re….well, you’re bluffing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Maybe. But are you willing to risk it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie tried to pull the gun from his hands but Crowley would not let go. Freddie grunted and managed to raise the gun into the air and pulled the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was a short blast of an explosion; sparks and light shot up into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie examined it and then glanced up at Crowley; his dark eyes full of wicked mirth:</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> bluffing. Blanks, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley looked out the window, then at the door, and then back at Freddie, weighing his options.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He opted for Freddie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He quickly sent a short prayer of thanks to his dad for teaching him the one thing of importance: fighting back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> In one quick, solid motion, he raised his arm and then slammed his fist against Freddie’s jaw. Freddie hit the ground; but he wasn’t out yet. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I’ve already got one man on my toll, why not add another?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>But then Crowley thought of Ezra, and his unhappy, disappointed expression. He thought of trials and jail and a sentencing he didn’t want to attend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> And then he looked down at the ground, where Freddie lay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Are you gonna do it?” He muttered, trembling slightly. For the first time in his life, Crowley could tell that Freddie Hastur was terrified not of pain, but of death itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Maybe he was scared of what would come after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He paused, and then lowered his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie breathed a sigh of relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But I am going to have to make you pass out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Freddie blinked, and then it set in. “Y-you really are a fucking monster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley laughed. “Not anymore than him or you.” He didn’t want to hurt him for pleasure or revenge; just to buy him time. He needed it - he needed to get to Ezra. He needed to get the rest of his things out of his house - and he needed a place to hide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, Freddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It only took two blows until he was out cold; Crowley examined the scene bitterly. He’d never felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>numb</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He ran out the door as fast as his legs would carry him. He hoped that his father wouldn’t be home, and better yet, Ezra waiting for him to come back. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was conflicted while writing this and I think it shows</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. It Won’t Be Long</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> “Hey, Micheala,” Uriel yawned. The sun was barely up yet, the fresh sunlight streaking across the sky like paint on a canvas. “Are you awake yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh, yeah, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She scrolled through her computer, smiling once she’d found what she had been looking for. “Listen to this - You know Freddie Hastur, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, he was supposed to visit his grandmother, or something, ‘cause he’s just gotten back from that detention hall, but he didn’t come. She stayed up the whole night waiting, even made a fresh pot of tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Huh. T-that’s weird. How’d you find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, Sandy sent it to me. I don’t know how he found out, but I thought it was funny, ‘cause I’ve just been hearing things, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hearing things - like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, you know - that Freddie’s gang was gonna rob a big department store or some bank this weekend, but I thought it was all tosh - haven’t you heard of it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “N-no…” Micheala’s voice had grown very small. “I hadn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I doubt anything will actually come from it - they’re a bunch of wankers, excuse my French, and we know they don’t have the balls to do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh...yeah,” Micheala said, trailing off again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Uriel looked out the window again, then at the phone. “Are you alright, love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Lovely. Just perfect, actually. Just a bit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Tired?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yep. Have you heard anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What, about Freddie and them? No, no - oh, hey, you should let Ezra know. He always seems to be rather behind, if you know what I mean. Bit of a prat, but he’s our new leader.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “New leader. Right. Well, I’ll see you later today, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, and Micheala?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Remember - the meeting time has changed. One o’clock, got it?”</span>
</p><p> For just a moment, Uriel wondered if Micheala had heard her.</p><p> “Got it.”</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Ezra glanced up at the sky as he walked out into the early morning sunshine. It was a big day - his last day at the church, and hopefully, the start of something new for him. Maybe, even the start between something </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> between him and Crowley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Throughout the night, he’d woken up four separate times from nightmares. Each one was about Crowley, but in different, horrifying situations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He felt as though he’d made the wrong choice, not going after him, the night before, that he was leaving him for dead - but he’d left his note to Crowley with him, and he was still sure that space was what he needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It would take time to repair their relationship. He was still heated - and he was still angry at Crowley for siding with Freddie and Ligur. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why would he do it? Why would he leave me for them? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> He got into his car, hoping a drive would clear his thoughts. He could go to the bookshop, the one that he and Crowley often frequented. He parked his car a block or so away, and got out, happy that he didn’t have to be preparing his notes for the seminar, happy that he finally felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>, except that he wasn’t, not yet, and not for some time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He’d be walking for a few minutes, and he could see the bookshop up ahead, when he heard footsteps behind him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Familiar</span>
  </em>
  <span> footsteps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> His brain told him to keep going, not to retreat, not to worry. Everything would be okay. He stopped at the crosswalk and trembled when he could see none other than Gabriel out of the corner of his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Walk faster, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the words emblazoned in his brain, and he broke into a sprint. The words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keep Going </span>
  </em>
  <span>repeated over and over until he made it to the bookshop. He stopped to catch his breath and turned, terrified that he was right behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>There’s...there’s no one there, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, then walked back towards his car, and then to the bookshop. He opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Sergeant Shadwell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hello, sir,” he said politely, a few volumes already catching his eye. “It’s me, again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I noticed,” Shadwell hummed from his post. “You lookin’ for a readin’ or a new blasted book, laddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er...well, neither, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shadwell slammed the magazine he’d been reading down on the counter. “Well, what’re y’doin’ in me shop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, I-I’ll go-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wait- you’re lookin’ pale, boy. You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Tickety-boo,” Aziraphale said softly. “I am sorry, I guess I’m just wasting your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah. Forget it,” Shadwell waved his hand, as if to reassure him to do just that, and then motioned it towards the back room. “Why dunt y’sit n’ my wife’ll fix you some tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wife?” He asked, suddenly curious. “Did Madam Tracy employ her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?” Shadwell barked. “Nay! That costs money. I married her myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh,” Ezra said, breaking out into a grin. “Congratulations, how lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Eh. It only made sense, how she’s always here, n’ all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Of course,” Ezra said, still smiling. He followed Shadwell as they cried-crossed throughout the ship until they reached the end, where a sign hung indicating the customer was now entering new territory. At the sight of the room, he gasped in awe. “Oh, my - how...interesting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Set up in the center was a circular table with tarot cards strewn about it, macabre objects littering the walls, and a Persian rug drawing the room together. There were two other doors, one with a sign that read ‘Private’ and another that read ‘Private On Occasion.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What does that mean?” He asked, gesturing to the latter sign. Shadwell sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That there was her den of iniquity. We’re workin’ on remodelin’ it, after what went on in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah,” and that was all Ezra could say, because thinking of another response would be too difficult. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The door that read ‘Private’ suddenly opened, and out came Madam Tracy, dressed in all her distinctive garb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, hallo,” she exclaimed pleasantly. “Mr. Shadwell, you didn’t tell me we had company!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You call you husband Mr. Shadwell?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, what else would I call him?” Tracy said, still cheerful as ever. “I’ll go fetch you some tea...let’s see, nine sugars for you, love, and...how many do you take?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “One is all, thank you so much.” Ezra smiled, appreciative of their hospitality. Tracy looked at them for a second and then gestured at the Private door. “Sorry - we don’t have guests that much. Shadwell, darling, can you get the door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shadwell grunted, and opened it up for him, revealing a quaint but handsome living area. Ezra stood in the entryway, studying a photo that hung on the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What is it, laddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er-did you by any chance hire a friend of mine?” He pointed at the photo. Shadwell nodded. “He’s a fine lad. Has an interest in witches, n’ helps me with my side business, real nice of him, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And that is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Witch-hunting,” Shadwell answered, and walked past him to sit in a large leather chair in the living room. “Sit down, boy, the tea isn’t ready yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> At the sound of his phone, Ezra waved his hands and excused himself. “So sorry, have to take this,” and retired to the first room to answer it. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ezra, it’s Micheal - Micheala - you know who it is. I just got off the phone with Uriel. She said that Freddie went missing last night. Said I should let you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra could feel his heart drop. “T-thank you, dear. I’m glad you told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Of course. Is there anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> What Ezra meant was if there was any</span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> else that she had left out, intentionally or not. There had to have been at least three of them - it didn’t add up. And if Crowley wasn’t mentioned….he didn’t even want to think about it. It was all his fault. All of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No,” she replied, almost too quickly. “That’s all. I’ll talk to you later, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes,” he tried to keep his voice steady and even, but his mind was running a mile a minute and he couldn’t keep anything straight anymore. “I’ll see you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He braced himself for the worst, shut his phone, and walked back into the other room. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Let It Be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ezra opened the door, glad to see that Shadwell was still in his easy chair. “Sergeant Shadwell, do you have the paper from this morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Aye, laddie,” Shadwell said, holding it up. “Didn’t know young people still read these.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra felt slightly flustered - he didn’t know people </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> read the paper. “Oh-oh of course, yes, well, I was just wondering if I could see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Here,” Shadwell tossed it to him and got up from the chair. “I’ve to see what’s taken’ the missus so long.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra smiled to himself, slightly amused, but quickly fell despondent when he read the headlines -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Local Gossip Site Runs Amok With Slander; Students at Hill High School Targeted by Miscreant (see GOSSIP on p.3)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hill High School Student Missing, Please Contact Authorities For More Details</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your Horoscope- You may be feeling run down and always in the same old daily round. Home and family matters are highlighted and are hanging fire. Avoid unnecessary risks. A friend is important to you. Shelve major decisions until the way ahead seems clear. You may be vulnerable to a stomach upset today, so avoid salads. Help could come from an unexpected quarter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Ezra’s brain was swirling. The first thing his eyes were drawn to was the blurb about the missing student - it had to be Freddie - already, it was in the local paper, which meant that someone was looking for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He tried to calm himself down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is good. They’ll find them all safe and sound and…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> There was no point in pretending. Ezra had, quite possibly, completely and totally fucked up. He hadn’t pressured Crowley, didn’t force him to stay, and possibly worst of all, he didn’t go after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The three of them could be anywhere. If Crowley read his note, there was a chance he left before anything too serious happened. But the fact that Freddie was missing didn’t sit well with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He reread the other headline and bit his lip - he was positive Anathema and Libby had taken down the gossip pages. What was it that she had said? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“I can take down my posts. But I doubt how much good it’ll do. I’m not the only one on that site, Ezra. Lots of kids here use it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Lots of kids.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Lots of kids could mean ten kids or fifteen, or thirty, because you could never be too sure. It could mean everyone. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Or it could mean just one, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he punched in a number into the keypad on his phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One with a lot of connections. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>As he waited for the person on the other end to pick up, he heard the door from the kitchen open up. He signaled to Tracy, loaded with a tray of teas and breads, that he was on the phone, and walked out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ezra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Micheal? It’s me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Shut up, I had you on speaker,” Micheala hissed. “What did I tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I thought you wanted me to call you Micheal, I’m sorry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “In private.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“But-” he stopped himself and took a deep breath. There was no use in getting upset. He wasn’t there yet. “I’m sorry. Are you...in private now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No,” she replied, breathlessly. “Gabriel’s in the other room,” her voice was very low. “And I can’t risk it. Not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra nodded. “Alright. Well. I wanted to ask you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh - um, sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “D-do you have any connections with the gossip pages? Now, I don’t mean to pry, but...I asked Anathema and Libby ages ago to take their posts down, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And do you trust them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra blinked. “What? I-of course I do! Listen to me, Micheala. I’m very worried right now, especially with the state that Gabriel and you are in, and that the pages are still up, and Cr-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The state Gabe and I are in?” Micheala repeated. “That’s rich. We’re fine, Ezra. Just fucking dandy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “B-but...surely, you have to be joking!” Ezra murmured into the phone. “Just a few months ago you were telling me that you didn’t like the way Gabe treats you, and that you were scared of him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I was fucking around with you, Ezra,” Micheala snarled, but before she could continue, Ezra interrupted her, furious. “No-</span>
  <em>
    <span>no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you weren’t. Something is wrong,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, hit he could barely steady it or his body. He was shaking. “And you aren’t telling me what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Fine. I posted some shit to the gossip boards last night. But I’m keeping my word when I say I’m not trying to harm you or Crowley. I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Then...why?” he asked, voice faltering again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Because I’m angry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “At what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “At whom,” she corrected sadly. “Ligur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “L-Ligur,” he repeated, “May I ask why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Because he lied to me. He told me he really was going to rob a bank, with him n’ Freddie. He said some other things to,” here the sound began to crackle, and Ezra knew she was crying. “I just had so much trust in him, but he’s a dirty selfish asshole and I didn’t even see it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And Anthony?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What about Anthony?” There was another pause, so he decided to explain. “You left him out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wait. Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er-yes.” This was not how he’d expected the conversation to go. “When did you find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I can’t even remember now. A few weeks ago, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He knew what she was going to ask next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “How about you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The same. Perhaps a little longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And you didn’t do anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, like gossiping about your boyfriend-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Ex-boyfriend.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Whatever. Like that’s any better. What good has it done, Micheala? Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Exactly. Right now, at least one of them is missing. You know one of them gave Anthony a gun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I wasn’t even serious, and then he-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Alright, alright, I get it,” Micheala hissed. “What am I supposed to do, hm? Sure, I’ll take down those pages, and I can report them all, but what good will it do? Tell me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“I-I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Exactly,” Micheala muttered snidely. “I’m tired of this shit. I didn’t even do anything wrong, and I have to deal with it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Look, I’m not exactly pleased either. We’ve both made mistakes - and so have they. Both of us should have done something earlier. I can admit when I’m wrong, and I’m doing it now. I should have gone in there to stop all of them - I should have gone after Anthony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What could you have done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know what I said. What could you have done? All you should have done was called the police, Ezra. It wasn’t your job to rescue him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What I’m trying to say is that it might have ended up worse if you went after him. Think about it. You could have gotten shot. Or worse. Sure, there’s a chance nothing would have happened, but there’s an even greater chance that it would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-I understand,” but his mind is moving a mile a minute. “Call the police, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?! Why should I do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You don’t have to do it yet. Just give me a good fifteen minutes. If it takes any longer. I’ll call. Or, I’ll just ring to signal you. Either way, I’ll ring you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’ve got to be joking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m as plain as day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s-I don’t think that’s the right expression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, whatever!” he muttered, and shut his phone. He walked back into the little room and smiled sadly when he saw Majorie setting up a table. “I am sorry, Madame Tracy, but I do believe I have to go- it’s an emergency.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “How awful!” Tracy said, resting a hand on her heart. “Whatever for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah-there’s not much time to explain. Where is Sergeant Shadwell?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “In the bathroom, should I let him know you’re leaving?” Ezra waved his hands. “N-no, that’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Madame Tracy nodded, and walked him back into the musty shop, and then out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ezra, is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ll see you around, love. But do call me Marjorie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Marjorie? But I thought-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s a persona,” she said sweetly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Madame Tracy pulls aside the veil</span>
  </em>
  <span>...well, you get the point. Do hurry along now, alright? And mind where you go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra laughed and smiled, waving as he hurried towards his car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Thank you, Marjorie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yeah i know the horoscope is meant for like September/October but I couldn’t help myself okay</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Eleanor Rigby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In one of the upstairs bedrooms at the Fell household, a witch, a witch finder, and a conspiracy theorist read the last prophecy left. It read:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>It shall be then, when it all runs red, a forbidden union shall bringeth forth justice. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “This one seems more straightforward,” Libby mused. “But the sun won’t set for a few more hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t think that’s what she means,” Anathema murmured, looking out the window. She bit her lip, frowned, and then read the prophecy again. “Unless she is being straightforward, which, would be a GREAT FREAKING HELP!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Chill out, its just a game,” Newt muttered. “Y’know, I’d be grateful if </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> aunt made up a game like this for me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Anathema shot him a death stare. “Whatever. You two can say whatever you want, but I believe in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s just nonsense Agnes made up,” Newt tried to counter matter-of-factly. “Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You have to admit that she is right though,” Libby thought aloud, tapping on the stack of read prophecies. “Maybe she does know something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I think you’re both a bit mad,” Newt muttered, but grinned affectionately at Anathema. “But that’s not the worst thing to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “True,” the other two agreed, and spent the afternoon deciphering the last prophecy. <br/><br/></span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no way I can find him with no time at all...Unless…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Ezra remembered Crowley’s address. Had he ever been in his house? It was odd now, realizing that they had been friends for, what, ten years - </span>
  <em>
    <span>and he’d never stepped foot in his house.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span> Something about that made him feel uneasy. Why hadn’t he ever questioned it before? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It dawned on him that he’d never met his father, either. He knew his mother had passed on when he was young, but he was sure Crowley had mentioned a stepmother along the line, somewhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He didn’t even know how long he’d lived there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably forever, considering his financial situation.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He chided himself, for thinking about it, but the alarm bells were beginning to sound and they were clanging in</span>
  <span> his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He turned the corner, cringing when he drove by two or three small, dirty houses, their lawns littered with garbage among other things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Then he felt rather ashamed - who was he to judge? He’d never met these people. He didn’t know their lives. He didn’t know how they’d even gotten here. <br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span> He parked his car in the Crowley’s driveway, trying to keep his cool, trying to remind himself not to judge, but he just couldn’t help himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> If he’d ever seen it before, it would have been during the night, after he would have picked up Crowley from a long night of drinking and driven him back home. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Stay calm. If he’s not here, you can always ask around. Ligur’s house has got to be near here somewhere…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He approached the door and knocked. He waited, heard a loud banging noise, waited some more, and then jumped back when the door finally opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The man that opened it was also not what Ezra had been expecting. He was muscular, but tall like Crowley; his eyes were an ugly shade of brown and his face looked weathered more from time rather than the outside elements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ah, hello, you must be…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sam Crowley,” the man barked. He reeked of alcohol and cologne, and something else, something familiar. “What do you want?” He squinted, and then got a closer look at him. “You look rich. You rich?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He could see where Crowley got the bluntness from, or, at least, after he got over his own awkwardness. “No. I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Crowley, but I was looking for your son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sam’s eyes suddenly shifted to the ground, and then back up again, only this time still refusing to make eye contact. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He’s...well, I haven’t seen him since yesterday, and he hasn’t called, and one of his friends has gone missing-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You listen to me, you fuckin’ faggot,” Sam snarled, grabbing Ezra by the coat sleeve. “My son isn’t missing. I would know. He’s just fine where he is - with his mother, actually - so you come back in a couple days and I’m sure he’ll be out again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra gaped at him for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well? Are you gonna get the hell off my property or am I gonna have to force you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra shook his head fervently. “N-no, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Good.” The door slammed shut. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>But his mother is dead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Then something amazing happened - Ezra made another connection. He waited until he was sure Sam wasn’t there anymore, then creeped towards the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was the smell - he’d been able to recognize it. In fact, he knew it a little too well, because his heart was racing, and he was shaking, and something told him he had to act quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He rushed to the side of the house, caught his breath, and grimly edged towards a grate. He knew one thing for sure - Crowley was not with his mother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Then he knew one more - his father was a lying...well, no word could be used to describe him, not yet, not until he was able to find his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley?” He hissed, kneeling down by the grate. He pressed his ear against it, praying to God he was right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> A minute passed, and then another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Just as the second minute was up, he could hear a scuffling noise, and then, a soft whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He began grappling with the grate manically, until he was able to yank it off. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em></em>
  <span>This can’t be happening. <br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>In the distance, he could hear sirens, and groaned. Somehow, some way, Micheala must have panicked and gotten a hold of the police. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley?!” He hissed again, peering into the dark basement - luckily, it was practically above ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There was a small noise, and then, a pair of shining amber eyes appeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh...oh my god,” Ezra whispered in horror. “Oh my God, what did he do to you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “M’alright, angel,” Crowley hummed, but he wasn’t. He was obviously in a daze. “Just...punishment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “For what?” Ezra asked, still horrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The letter,” he said, in aching pain, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. “He...he was waiting for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, you don’t…” the words didn’t come. He could see that there was a fresh bruise under his eye, and his face and neck were covered in new blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> That was the scent he’d remembered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> In the light, as Ezra helped him out from under the basement, dozens of scars could be seen on his body. “I hear...noises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s right, that’s good,” Ezra whispered, cradling his head. “Sirens. Those are sirens...and..oh my God, how...why…?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> His eyes travelled down his pale skin - it was stained red and cut - and what little clothes he had on barely covered the soaking gash on his knee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Why would anyone do this?” Ezra asked, still in shock. “I-I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel..those cars...coming for me,” Crowley answered, still weak, still in pain. “I know they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But...but you didn’t do anything wrong - they-they can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley shook his head, grim. “No..I…I got your note.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You did.” Ezra replied, voice flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And I...I sh…” he shook at the thought of even saying the words. “I’m sorry, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra’s breathing began to escalate as he heard one of the cars drive down the street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I love you, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I..I love you, dearest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> They shared what felt like their last kiss as the first police car pulled into the driveway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Just know that whatever happens, I’m here for you,” Ezra said, breathlessly. Crowley gasped and held onto him as one of the policemen made their way over to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Whatever he said next melted away, as  fourteen policemen began to ask questions, and a crowd of onlookers formed; yet all Ezra saw were swatches of dark reds and even deeper crimsons.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>nobody laugh but i just realized that there’s an option to add a horizontal line in the chapter text box 😭😂 (I’VE BEEN USING THIS SITE SINCE LAST OCTOBER LMAO)</p><p>anyways did somebody say drama cause I think this chapter delivered...</p><p> </p><p>also lesson learned: prophecies are hard to write.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. This Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Unfortunately, Ligur didn’t die. </p><p> Neither did Freddie. </p><p> Nobody did, and that was what helped Crowley get out of a very large, and very painful sentencing. </p><p> One of the ways that he was able to get acquitted was that he was committing an act of self defense, and that the plans to rob the bank weren’t his. </p><p> There was also the issue that he was almost unable to attend the trial completely, because he had been beaten so badly he had problems walking for five months. </p><p> It also helped that he had a massive amount of testimonies on his behalf that showed he was, contrary to popular belief, a good person. </p><p> The judge and jury were both shocked yet amazed that a young man could amass so many friends that were willing to stand by him on his behalf.</p><p> </p><p>The list went as follows:</p><p> </p><p>Anathema </p><p>Libby</p><p>Newt </p><p>Adam</p><p>Brian</p><p>Pepper </p><p>Wensleydale </p><p>Mr. R.P Tyler </p><p>Mr. Pulsifer </p><p>Micheala </p><p>Beatrice </p><p>Annie</p><p> </p><p> Unfortunately (or, depending on how you look at it, fortunately) the list of people willing to defend Freddie and Ligur was much smaller:</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>This is because no one wanted to defend them. </p><p> </p><p> It also did not help Ligur’s case when it was found that he had been harassing students online for the past two and a half years, and that he’d been handling guns in the first place. </p><p> It did not help Freddie when investigators realized that he’d traumatized a young man with a butter knife while he was serving at the detention center, or that he had ten cases of beer in his room when he was found passed out in his house by the phone. </p><p> There were other things that were uncovered, too, but they would have to wait until later, until everything had settled down, until everyone was finally able to move on. </p><p>  The last witness to testify was Ezra. </p><p> “Mr. Fell, before we allow you to take your seat, would you care to say anything more on the defendants behalf?”</p><p> “Er, yes,” he answered quickly, remembering to raise his voice. “Ah...I would like to ask that all of you look at Crowley - er, Anthony - objectively. Yes. This was a very poor situation to be in, obviously, but, um…” he shared a glance with the other boy before continuing. “But he is not a bad person. Now, he will tell you that he is, because he wants to look cool and be cool and feel cool, but he’s never been a bad person. Not once have I seen him harm an animal or another person- and although he may have had those intentions when he was in that house, I can tell you that it was not unprovoked. He has been beaten, and torn down, and-”</p><p> “That’s enough, Mr. Fell,” the prosecutor said. “Please take your seat.” He motioned to the judge and gave his closing remarks, and for once, Crowley felt like he could breathe again. </p><p> Of course, this does not mean Crowley got off scot free. He would have to serve at least a year doing community service; not that he minded. Actually, although he’d never admit it, he enjoyed it. He liked doing good, and it was more than obvious from the character witnesses and the given evidence.</p><p> As he began to reacclimate himself to ordinary life, Ezra did too. The first thing he did was ask that Uriel and Sandy step down from their positions.</p><p> “What? Why?!” Uriel had asked incredulously. Before Sandy could come up with another bullshit line from scripture, Ezra responded as calmly as he could:</p><p> “Because I’m giving you new jobs.”</p><p> “Huh?”</p><p> “I don’t want to lead this church by myself, but I also don’t want to have to interact with you.”</p><p> “That’s very...unprofessional, of you,” Sandy muttered. “I don’t understand.”</p><p> “It’s alright, I’m not surprised,” Ezra said politely. “You’ll have to be retaught everything anyway.”</p><p> “Excuse me?”</p><p> “I’m sorry, did you think I was going to run a cult when I signed up for this?”</p><p> “You didn’t sign up for anything. If there was a sign-up sheet, I would have tried for the position,” Sandy pointed out.</p><p> “Well, then it looks like I’m doing you a favor, then. Don’t worry, you’re going to be just fine, as long as you don’t bring any weapons into the building.”</p><p> “Wait. <em> What?!” </em>Uriel shrieked, chasing after him as he walked away from them. “You’re-you-this isn’t what the Almighty wanted!”</p><p> “You’re right, which is why I’m changing things around here.” Ezra replied smartly, and opened up the door to allow them inside. They walked in, shocked at what they saw. </p><p> Not a single person was wearing white. The knives were gone from the cubbies, the podium was missing, and the chalkboard had been replaced with a whiteboard. The chairs were now arranged differently, too, and the lights were on for a change. </p><p> “I can’t believe you’ve done this,” Uriel said, still shocked. Ezra nodded happily. “Neither can I!”</p><p> The students looked up and saw him, drew back, and then slowly walked up to him. </p><p> Ezra smiled when he recognized the first one in line.</p><p> “Er, I don’t know if you remember-”</p><p> “Amie, right?”</p><p> The girl stared back at him, probably more shocked than Uriel. “You know my name?”</p><p> “Well, of course,” Ezra smiled. “I’m sorry about...well, about everything.” He then turned his attention to the whole group. “To all of you- I sincerely apologize. For what you’ve all been through-”</p><p> “I’m sorry, what does this have to do with-” Uriel began, crossing her arms. The boy named James raised his arms. “Oi, shut up already!”</p><p> The group turned to him in horror. So did Uriel. </p><p> Ezra bit back his laughter and escorted Uriel out of the room, Sandy in tow. </p><p> “D-did you see that? That was unjustified, that was- Oh, I’m gonna wring his little neck!”</p><p> “That doesn’t sound so holy, now does it?” Ezra asked, amused. Uriel frowned, and then glared and grabbed Sandy’s arm. “Whatever. We’re going. You’re going to hell for <em> all </em> of this.” </p><p> “At least you’ll be there to join me,” Ezra snapped, and walked back into the classroom. “Terribly sorry, everyone. I’m afraid Uriel and Sandy won’t be with us anymore.”</p><p> And not a single soul in the room cried in their honor. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> “I’m confused,” someone asked for the millionth time. “What we learned <em> isn’t </em> good?”</p><p> “I hate to say that you’re right, but you are,” Ezra said sadly. “I’m afraid that us….older kids have been very misguided. I-I can’t express to all of you how sorry I am for it.”</p><p> “We’ve been misguided too,” a girl mumbled. “I’m thirteen. I have known better.”</p><p> “Carrie,” Ezra said sternly. “How long have you been attending these classes? This church?”</p><p> “Since I was...eight, maybe?”</p><p> “And how long has Gabriel been the leader?”</p><p> “About the same time, I guess,” she said slowly. “Oh. So it’s <em> not </em> my fault?”</p><p> “I don’t think so,” Ezra sighed. “I’m glad most of it all is over now. It’s been quite a long year, unfortunately.”</p><p> “At least you’ll be here to teach us f’ever n’ ever, right, Ezra?” A small boy asked. Ezra bit his lip and shook his head. </p><p> “I...I..no. I’m only going to be your teacher for a few more months, I’m afraid.”</p><p> The group collectively groaned. Someone sniffed. A few tears were shed. </p><p> “B-but why?” The boy blubbered. </p><p> “Well, you see,” Ezra explained happily, almost jittery with emotion. “My-well, you all know about Anthony, so I guess there’s no need to explain - but we’ve decided to move. Permanently.”</p><p> “Per-permanently?!”</p><p> “Well, yes,” he said, voice soft and gentle and comforting again. “I’m just about 18 - I’m an adult now. And as much as I adore all of you...there’s nothing keeping Crowley and I here. There’s a lot of...bad memories associated with…” he gestured around them, and continued. “And I don’t think it would be healthy or wise if we stayed.”</p><p> “We’ll miss you lots,” Amie whispered, sniffing. Ezra smiled. “And I to all of you. Now, don’t worry. The church will be in good hands, I can promise you that.”</p><p> “Well, who is it?” </p><p> “It’s a bit of a funny story, actually...” Ezra mused. “It’s...um...everyone?”</p><p> “What?” The group asked in unison. Ezra squirmed in his plasticky vinyl chair. </p><p> “I didn’t know who to ask, exactly, so I got into contact with a few friends, and they’re all more than willing to take care of the classes and even recruit some new clergy members, that kind of thing, to help run the church smoothly.”</p><p> “I thought the Connors parents ran the church?” A blonde haired boy asked.</p><p> “Not anymore,” Ezra shared a smile with them all before dismissing them. “I hope you all know that you’re loved, and that God loves you too.”</p><p> “But Gabriel-”</p><p> Ezra shook his head. “Never mind what he said. You don’t have to listen to me, of course, but...I don’t think he ever had your best interests in mind.”</p><p> The group said their goodbyes, and parted, even though it wouldn’t be their last session. It just felt like it. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>there’s only four chapters left OH MY GOD</p><p>also don’t worry about Gabriel he’s going to be just fine where he’s going 😉 (and no, it ain’t gonna be heaven)</p><p>ALSO OH MY GOD I JUST CHECKED AND THIS IS OFFICALLY THE LONGEST FANFICTION I’VE EVER WRITTEN WTF</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Words Of Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fifteen Years Later</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span> Anthony J. Crowley was well known for being the best selling author in London. He was also known for many other things, if not limited to wearing a very scientific watch, driving a 1933 (or ‘26, depending on where you get your information) Bentley, and his unusual but expensive fashion sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> But in the Soho community, he was better known for his daily trips to one of the local bakeries, and then to a flower shop, and then to a liquor store on the corner. He came in, left, and repeated this process at least twice a week - he had done so ever since he’d moved into the area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> At least, that’s what the locals thought. They assumed that he lived inside Mr. Fell’s bookshop, an antiquated store that was rumored to have never sold a single book, because he never seemed to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know, you do have houseplants, dear,” Ezra murmured from his newspaper one morning. “I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> they manage to stay alive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I have the gardener for that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra tsked and shook his head. “I think the money’s gotten to your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Mhm,” Crowley murmured, sliding up next to him. “And you wouldn’t have a single morning without your breads, or your teas, or those crumpets that I know you love, and you wouldn’t be able to keep the store open, of course, unless you wanted to sell a book-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Alright, alright!” Ezra exclaimed, exasperated but smiling - he couldn’t get upset at Crowley, because he was entirely correct. For the past thirteen years, Anthony had supported him financially - it was odd, how the tables had turned. And it was surprising, they’d soon realized, just how much. After Crowley had published his first novel, he’d suggested that Ezra drop out of university.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Absolutely not</span>
  </em>
  <span> - how will I be able to support us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, come on, angel,” Crowley had said, holding up the copy of his prized book. “Trust me - we’ll be just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> After the second and third novels had gotten published, Crowley suggested they move somewhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “And where would that be?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “How about...well, you could always open a bookshop somewhere, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-I suppose so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And the community is supposed to be very accepting…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It does sound rather lovely-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And I’m sure you would be willing to part with a...few...from your collection,” Crowley gestured to the stacks of books that spread from wall-to-wall in their cramped apartment. “Or...maybe most of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I suppose we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> need a little more space…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Unfortunately, Ezra had failed to understand that in order to run a successful business, you might actually have to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>profits. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, it’s not for sale,” Crowley heard Ezra say as he walked into the shop one afternoon. “No, no, let me take that off your hands - oh, hello, dear!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley watched as a woman shook her head in disgust and stormed off, muttering something under her breath about fickle old men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What was that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Whatever do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You haven’t sold a single book, angel - you have to understand that...oh, sod it. Never mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What is it?” His expression was entirely crestfallen - he reached out to stroke Crowley’s hand, but knew he would jerk away. It was hard, breaking old habits, and even harder to break old memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-I just want you to be happy...I want you to have your books, and the shop, but sometimes I worry. I worry that I’ll end up losing everything - the money, the readers, even just the ability to write a story, y’know? I worry that I’ll end up letting you down, just like everyone else, and that you’ll have to compromise what you want - the shop, the books - all of it - just so I can fulfill my stupid dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crowley,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ezra walked out from his post at the counter and protectively wrapped his arms around him. He made sure to comfort him, made sure to make him feel safe and secure, before he said anything more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Your dreams aren’t stupid - if they were, you wouldn’t have the success that you’ve earned, now would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-I guess so,” Crowley murmured, nestling into the crook of his neck. “But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You shouldn’t have to feel that way about yourself because of me,” Ezra whispered. “Because you’ll never let me down. Ever. You impress me and...and you’re intelligent, and brave - every time you’ve ever had writers block, what do you do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-I drink a bunch of red wine and get drunk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, after that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I take you upstairs and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra reddened and began waving his hands furiously. “Erm, no, no...I meant that you overcome it. You always have, haven’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well...yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra grinned from ear to ear. “See? You just need to have a little more-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “If you’re going to say faith, I’m leaving you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Confidence,” Ezra finished for him. “Confidence, dearest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> By the time Crowley had published his fifth book, Ezra’s book collecting had managed to work its way into the living area upstairs. It was too small to be considered a flat, but both Crowley and Ezra managed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ve been thinking of getting a flat for myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Whatever for?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley gestured around the apartment. “I don’t have any room for my plants. Besides, I know you’re tired of Queen-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t know why you keep that infernal radio, it barely works-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hey, don’t doubt it!” Crowley said proudly, holding it up like a trophy. “It still works-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’ve had to get it fixed four times in a month, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And it works, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ezra,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he mocked, hitting the power button to turn it on. Garbled news began to blare through the speakers. “Er...maybe some other time,” he muttered, switching it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> So Crowley got himself a flat in Mayfair. It felt odd, to have a place of his own - but he’d needed it. He needed to be independent, or as independent as one could be when they were practically attached to their S.O at the hip. Not a day went by when he didn’t visit the bookshop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> After a particularly lovely day at the Ritz, and then a walk in the park, Crowley walked Ezra back to the shop and proposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He said yes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Just a few weeks after the proposal, the shop’s phone rang. “I’ll get it!” Crowley yelled, and slid into the back room to answer it. “Hullo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, is this the Crowley residence?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He felt a pang in his heart - it reminded him of when he and Ezra had bought the shop. He’d put down the bookshop as his home, because it was more of a home than he’d ever had - and it made sure that no one would come looking for him, unless they wanted to speak with Ezra, too. And if it ever came to that….</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Uh...May I ask who’s calling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “This is Sherri from Eden Hill hospital - are you Anthony Crowley?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He paused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eden Hill? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He nor Ezra hadn’t been anywhere near Eden in ages - years, even. He could feel his heartbeat come to a stop; this wouldn’t be good news. He could sense it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes- go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m calling to inform you that your father has passed on - quite a few days ago, actually - we’re so sorry that we didn’t ring you earlier, but we had some trouble contacting you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Thank you,” he said flatly, and hung up the phone. “Ezra?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, dearest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Would you be up for an impromptu get-to-together?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra peered over the stairs at his soon-to-be-husband and frowned. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s my dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra didn’t rush down to hug him, or comfort him - he knew that Crowley didn’t need it. Even though the scars were still there, he was better now. He had everything he’d ever wanted and more - and he was the happiest he’d ever been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, Anthony.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley knew he wasn’t apologizing for his dad passing. “Thanks. Hey, d’you know where the photo album is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, it’s probably somewhere around here,” Ezra mused. “Should I fetch it for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Please, angel,” and he watched as his fiancé retreated back into one of the little rooms. When Ezra returned, he walked down the stairs and handed it to him gingerly, as if he knew what he was about to do. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He flipped to the middle - the section he’d squared off for himself - and grimaced. There were only four photos. One was of his mother, when she was young and pretty and didn’t have care in the world - before she met his father. There were two of his dad, one from when he’d met Trish, and the last one was of him, when he was three or four. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> One by one, he took out every photo except the one if his mother and put them in his pocket. “Come on. We have to get packed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What, we’re going? Crowley, surely, after everything-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “After everything, they should be </span>
  <em>
    <span>expecting</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to come back,” Crowley muttered as he stomped upstairs. “Just because I got acquitted-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Gabriel is in a mental institution because of us,” Ezra cut in. As he reached the top step, Crowley turned to look at him, grinning as he thought about Gabriel getting committed all over again. “You don’t think he deserved it, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well-of course he did! But I would gather that everyone else would still be displeased with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley stopped to consider that. “Oh...</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yikes, I forgot about that. D’you think that everyone’s moved away? Maybe gone off to the states for a holiday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra rolled his eyes. “We can hope and pray, but I doubt it, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He patted his pocket and smiled. “Guess we’ll just have to face the music and dance,” and he held out a hand for Ezra to join him. “Join me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra sighed and walked up the steps, grabbing onto his hand for balance. “Is it bebop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley stared at him in horror. “It’s an expression, Ezra.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh,” the other said, and smiled. “Well then, let’s get dancing then!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley laughed. It would be a long few days, but he was finally ready. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shhh I know authors don’t make that much, let’s just pretend that they do lmao</p><p> </p><p>also everyone that’s ever died in my family has gotten cremated so i don’t exactly know how the casket/headstone process works, even though I should (my dads an embalmer) so i apologize</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Two Of Us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy One Year of TV Good Omens! ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> The drive to Eden was long, but not unwelcomed by either Ezra or Crowley. Besides - a part of them knew that one day they’d have to make the trip back home. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Crowley! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Watch the road!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Aw, come on, angel! We’ll be fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to end up like my parents?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley bit his tongue. The car slowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “M’sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra patted his thigh affectionately. “It’s alright...I just worry about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I should hope so, you’re my husband, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra rolled his eyes. “We aren’t married yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Eh, it’s not like you’ll divorce me though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “How far is it until Eden?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Check the GPS.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The GPS-” Crowley stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s the thing right here,” he muttered, tapping a small black screen on the dashboard. “Shows you a map and stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh. When did you get it? I’ve never seen one before-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ve had it for ten months,” Crowley smiled warmly, amused. “It’s alright, I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What’s that supposed to mean?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley winked at him. “Why, you’re always looking at me, your adoring boyfriend, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra grinned, noticing the humor in his voice. They both laughed for a few moments before Ezra spoke:</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re right,” Ezra murmured. “There’s nothing else I’d rather look at, anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ngk-I-er...I mean, if that’s, of course you do, no wait-” Crowley sputtered, unable to keep his face from heating up. “If that’s how you feel-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra rolled his eyes. “Of course I do, you dummy.” He paused as something outside caught his attention. “Oh, Crowley, look! There’s the old windmill!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “God, I can’t believe they still have that piece of-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Don’t you dare say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “-Shit. It’s shit, angel. Remember when we were kids and went inside n’ found a skeleton in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a bird-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, yeah, birds get in there, I know, but <em>come on</em> Ezra, even you have to admit that it looks like utter shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra stared at it as the Bentley came to a halt and sighed. “It does look...rather beat up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Angel, one of the blades is missing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Alright, alright, I get it!” Ezra crumpled in his seat. “I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> you get along with those fans of yours at those conventions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Why? Don’t you like my winning personality?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Can’t we just pretend that the windmill is fine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, but then we’d have to pretend that I didn’t shoot a guy, you didn’t dismantle the local church, and that we’re not gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That makes...that almost makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m just...I dunno. Psyching myself up, I guess. I’m...I’m sorry for dragging you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley. You did not drag me here. I told you I wanted to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But this place isn’t exactly...heaven. I mean, growing up, you adored this place. Loved it. And I didn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know you were at a disadvantage-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It doesn’t matter. Now I’ve ruined your home for you. You know this is the first time you’ve gone back, in, what, fifteen years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra didn’t say anything. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his slacks until he was ready to talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You never ruined it, dearest. I just...grew up. I didn’t want to come back not because of this,” he said, gesturing between them. “But because of things outside your control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Things outside my control,” Crowley repeated flatly. Ezra nodded. “What we have was not what kept me away - it was...well, it was a lot. My father is </span>
  <em>
    <span>buried</span>
  </em>
  <span> here, Anthony. Do you know how many times I’ve visited his grave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley bit his lip. He knew exactly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Once. The day they lowered the casket in,” he answered, keeping his eyes fixated on the road. “I’m-I’m sorry, Ezra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The other nodded, unsure of what to say next. “It’s not your fault. None of it is, really. Even if Micheala and I had never exposed Gabriel, or any of...that had happened, I don’t think I would have come back anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Really,” Ezra said, running his hand along his thigh again to soothe him. Crowley made a small noise but continued to drive, not daring to look at him. “You know how I get angel…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” he said, grinning like a sappy teenager. “Oh dear, we’re almost there. Where do we go, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I-I wasn’t sure. I thought I could drive by Beatrice’s house, or maybe Annie’s, to see if they’re still there. I think we’ve made it just in time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You mean you didn’t check to see when the funeral would be?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Crowley. Please tell me that you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Not...exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra buried his head in his hands and groaned. “How...how do you even get your books done in time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I send them an email! They don’t care, trust me, s’long as they get their story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I still...oh, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> hope that Bea is there now..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, me too,” he grumbled, and drove down the road leading to his house, and then a little farther until he reached Beatrice’s. “Huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, her house looks different - actually, quite a lot of ‘em do. Funny. Probably just got new owners. C’mon, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> They got out of the car and practically tangoed their way to the door, neither of them wanting to knock first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Luckily, neither of them got the opportunity, because the door swung open, and there stood Beatrice. Her dark hair was still fashioned into a bob, but her overall clothing and appearance had changed drastically - more tame, more conventional. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Anthony?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh. Hey. Uh...did you see us coming, or something, cause you just opened the door and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “My kid said there was a new car in our driveway, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be his father,” she snapped, and immediately, Ezra smiled. “Your lisp - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>it’s gone. You must be so happy, I remember how much you hated it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I told you I was taking speech therapy, didn’t I?” Beatrice shook her head, but Ezra’s infectious smile was already leeching onto her. “Yeah, it’s been gone for a while now. I am happy, though  - thanks for-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, you have a kid?” Crowley interrupted, an incredulous expression on his face. “When did...</span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, I got pregnant a while back, and I kind of...just...kept him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Both Ezra and Crowley stared at her in amazement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, don’t look at me like that! I wanted to be a mom, y’know? I mean, I think I’ve always wanted kids. Unlike…” she twisted her face. “Why don’t you come inside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Once they were both settled in with a pot of tea on the table, Bea introduced them to her son. “His name is Pugsly,” she said, grinning ear-to-ear. “Tell them how old you are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The boy held up four fingers, to indicate that he was, in fact, four, and ran off to another side of the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You named your kid after the Addams Family?” Crowley asked, still in awe of the fact that he was sitting with her. Bea nodded proudly. “Yep - I was inspired, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley thought about that. It seemed fitting, really, because where else would she get a name like that from, anyways? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Do you have a partner?” Ezra took a slow sip from his cup, letting the question linger. “Not that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, no, it’s alright. No. I don’t,” she said bitterly, taking a bite from a biscotti. “It’s alright. Never really wanted one, after Gabe, y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I shouldn’t have asked,” Ezra set his cup down, hoping to amend the situation. “We’re sorry about...that whole...thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes,” Crowley supplied, hoping he sounded as sincere as he meant it. “I-we both wanted to apologize. For everything that happened because of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You never had to,” Beatrice said a little too quietly. They could see how much it weighed down on her. “Really. Neither of you did anything wrong. You just...got caught up in it all. Let me ask you something, Ezra. Did you ever cut some kids wrist open with a knife?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What?! Of course not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And Crowley. Did you ever...oh, well, I guess you did do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I mean, we can address it,” Crowley tried to pretend the awkwardness wasn’t there, but it was. It just seemed to go on for far too long, so he did what he could to fill it in. “I’m very open about the whole thing-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Beatrice whispered miserably. “Crowley - Anthony - I won’t say you aren’t welcomed here. There a lot of people in Eden that adore your work-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Just not me, right?” Crowley muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well…” Beatrice cringed, because he was right. “You’ve done a lot of good for the town, you know? I mean, we’ve gotten a lot of visitors, since you were born here, and all, and revenue has gone up, I believe-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So you all want me here only because I’m famous now? Is that it? Because I drive in people, and that drives in money, right?” He prompted, leaning over the coffee table. Ezra didn’t hold him back. “Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s not...I guess so. But I swear, I don’t think of you like that. I mean...we were friends, Anthony. Good friends, I’d like to think - and you were sort of like a brother to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You hated my eyes. Called me a freak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You hated my lisp. Called me…” she frowned, and thought it over. “I don’t think you actually ever called me anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley didn’t budge. He let her mull it over before he said anything, let her think it through. Besides, he was done talking. He didn’t have anything else to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry about your dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You think I care about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No. I never said you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Then why apologize?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Crowley-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Sorry. I know...I know there’s a lot of...shit between us. But I know you care. So…” the next part was extremely muffled, and neither Ezra or Bea could detect what he was saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sorry, what was that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Thank you!” Crowley shouted, exasperated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh. Um. Thank you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Would you like to go to the funeral with us?” Ezra asked nervously. “Well. If it’s er...today, that is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wait. Did you two not even know when it was?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “We were...hoping you might have told us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It was yesterday. They thought you weren’t coming, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “They can do that?” Crowley jumped from the sofa and began pacing the room. “Nobody even let me know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s not like they were gonna keep him in the morgue until you got here,” Bea grumbled. “You can go visit him right now-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And you can join us!” Ezra said cheerfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Can’t, I have to watch Pugsly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh. That’s too bad, then,” Ezra frowned, and then got up to join Crowley. “I suppose we should get together some time, right, dearest?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Huh? Oh, yeah. Might be nice.” Crowley wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. He only could look outside and hope that he’d never see that house again - but a part of him wanted to. He couldn’t help it. As many bad memories as there were, there were maybe a dozen good ones associated with it, that he’d rather missed thinking about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I wouldn’t go too far though,” Bea muttered. “What with the lot of them still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You mean...you’re not the only one left?” Ezra eyed Crowley tentatively before turning back to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her expression was grim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Unfortunately, I’m not.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: the scene when Crowley spends the night at Ezra’s and Ezra accidentally outs Micheal actually happened to me. I forgot to include it so before this series ends I thought I’d just throw it in now, but I’d also like to add a message alongside it:</p><p>Basically, my friend and I were hanging out and she accidentally outed a guy in our school. Even though it was an accident (like in this case) and even though he was a jerk (like Micheal) it should never happen to anyone. </p><p>I have been hearing a lot online recently about Operation Pridefall and I wanted to just ask that everyone remember to stay safe online during these difficult times as well as outside as we begin to reacclimate ourselves. Please be careful while talking to anyone you don’t know and make sure to be wary when discussing your orientation.</p><p>Normally I would urge people to fight back, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea here. These people are vicious and could potentially harm young members‘ of the LGBTQ+ community mental health and so on, and I just want everyone to be as safe as possible.</p><p>I know it’ll suck bc of Pride Month and all the parades being cancelled but we will just have to stand together against the homophobes <em>and</em> the virus</p><p> </p><p>#wewillnotfall 🏳️🌈</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Not A Second Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> “That went well,” Ezra griped as they both got into the car. Crowley grimaced before turning on the radio. “You think?”</p><p> “I suppose it could have gone better.”</p><p> “You suppose? Angel, do you think she wanted you to ask about her love life?” </p><p> “I-I didn’t, did I?”</p><p> “Fine, you inquired about it - d’you really think she wants to talk about that? After that whole meltdown she had with Gabriel?”</p><p> “I guess not.”</p><p> “Eh, just made it more awkward than it already was. No harm done, I suppose.”</p><p> “I’m sorry that we’re late,” Ezra said, voice soft and gentle again. “I know you don’t care so much, but I know saying your peace can help ease the burden of it all.”</p><p> “Don’t be. I never want to look at that bloody bastard again-”</p><p> “And you don’t have to. All I’m suggesting is that you...try to move on from it.”</p><p> “Haven’t I already?” He gestured vaguely around them, the car, the clothes, everything. “Isn’t it obvious?”</p><p> “Crowley...all of this doesn’t equate to progress. It doesn’t mean anything - all it shows is that you’re successful. The money you’ve made, your books, your car, your <em> fortune </em> doesn’t just...replace everything that’s happened. It may help clean the wound, but waiting and pretending adds salt.” </p><p>  Crowley squirmed in his seat, because he knew Ezra was right and he knew that eventually he would have to accept what had happened to him.</p><p> “I don’t like thinking about it.”</p><p> “Darling, after what you went through, I don’t think anyone would.” </p><p> “Can it wait?”</p><p> Ezra sighed. “I don’t think it’s healthy to put it off.”</p><p> “I know it isn’t, but that hasn’t stopped me before-”</p><p> “You quit smoking, didn’t you?”</p><p> “Wh-what?”</p><p> Ezra smiled at him a little. “When was the last time you had a cigarette?”</p><p> “Er….a long time ago,” then he remembered. “When you told me not to?”</p><p> “Mhm,” Ezra murmured, taking his hand in his, stroking it gently. “So. You quit smoking. It was unhealthy, and I know you know that. So why can’t you do this?”</p><p> “I-I don’t know,” he said slowly, really, <em> really </em> trying to think of a reason why. “All of it...it’s just coming back, and a part of me wants to go, to just say goodbye, to remember the good things, too, and maybe even say bye to my mom, but…”</p><p> “But the bad things are holding you back?”</p><p> He nodded stiffly. “Yep.”</p><p> “Y-you know you don’t have to. I just want you to be happy.”</p><p> “I am happy, Ezra. Doing this won’t make me any less.”</p><p> “Are you sure?”</p><p> He nodded again, because he finally was. “Yeah. I mean, it’s gonna be hard, and I know I don’t <em> have </em> to do it. It’s not necessary. But I also know that not doing it is going to...to haunt me, in a way.”</p><p> “You shouldn’t feel guilty...not for this, though,” Ezra hummed, running a hand through his red curls. “Do you feel guilty?”</p><p> “No,” he glanced out the window at the sky, and then back at his fiancé. “I don’t feel guilty, exactly. Guilt doesn’t really apply here. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m not guilty. I wouldn’t be - I’d just feel...regret.”</p><p> “Aren’t they one in the same?”</p><p> “I don’t think so. If I’d truly done something wrong, I’d feel guilty, right?”</p><p> “Erm...Yes, go on.”</p><p> “And <em> not </em> going wouldn’t necessarily put me in the wrong, right?” He waited, and when Ezra was still thinking, he prodded him again. “Right?”</p><p> “Well - yes, right.”</p><p> “So I’d just regret it. Because I didn’t go.”</p><p> “Because you didn’t go,” Ezra repeated, and then sighed. “Well, whatever you decide...I’ll support you. I understand it’s hard, of course, harder than what I’ve gone through, but-”</p><p> “Hey,” he took his hand and grasped it affirmingly. “You’ve been through shit too. Just ‘cause I’ve had it bad doesn’t mean your shit doesn’t matter. Got it?”</p><p> Ezra nodded, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Mhm.”</p><p> “Trust me?”</p><p> “Alright, alright,” he was grinning again, and that made Crowley happy, so he began to drive. “Where are we going, angel?”</p><p> “Oh. Right. Bea said we should visit Annie - I’m surprised she still lives here…”</p><p> “Yeah...I guess it won’t hurt. You want to visit your mum?”</p><p> Ezra shook his head. “No. I don’t think she was happy when I left.”</p><p> “So you’re going to ignore her?”</p><p> “I didn’t say that.”</p><p> “You did leave a note, or at least tell her that we left, right?”</p><p> Ezra said nothing.</p><p> “Angel?”</p><p>
  <em>  “No.” </em>
</p><p> “What?!”</p><p> “No. That was the one thing she wanted - for me to stay near her, and I didn’t.”</p><p> “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p> “I was at uni, and there was no reason in going back home-”</p><p> “But you didn’t tell her.”</p><p> “Yes, but-”</p><p> “Ezra, listen to me,” he pulled over by the road that led to Annie’s house and stared at him very seriously. “I’m happy you went with me - I-I love you, for somebody’s sake - but you <em> have </em> to talk to her. If I’m going to the cemetery, then I think you should go talk to your mum.”</p><p> “Alright.”</p><p> “You know I don’t want to force you-”</p><p> “You’re right.”</p><p> “I am?”</p><p> “I should have done it a long time ago. Oh, heavens…”</p><p> “What?”</p><p> “I have to invite her to the wedding now, don’t I?”</p><p> “Well, if my mum were alive, I’d invite her.”</p><p> “Yes, but we have very different mums.”</p><p> “T-that’s true.”</p><p> “She always said she’d support me, but…”</p><p> “She didn’t want you to end up with a delinquent, I got it,” he grumbled, and continued to drive. “Am I really that awful?”</p><p> “Oh, stop it - you’re a dear.”</p><p> “Ew.”</p><p> “You know it’s true!”</p><p> “Shut up,” he growled, but they both knew that, once again, Ezra was right. “Jesus, the house must be nicer than when she moved.” </p><p> Ezra surveyed the surrounding houses. “They’re all rather lovely.”</p><p> He pulled into the driveway of the address that Beatrice had given them. It was a very nice house. In fact, it was the nicest on the street.</p><p> “I’m confused, is this a trick?”</p><p> “Why, dear?”</p><p> “There’s a <em>fucking</em> <em>fountain</em> outside.”</p><p> “So? Lots of houses have fountains. Come on, I’m sure Bea is past that kind of thing.”</p><p> “But there’s a <em>fucking</em> <em>fountain</em> and the <em>hedges, </em>angel-”</p><p> Ezra rolled his eyes and got out, Crowley only a few steps behind, stopping every few seconds to glance at the handiwork of the gardener. </p><p> After Ezra rant the doorbell, they stood on the sweeping stone porch, marveling at the gorgeous landscaping and accompanying statues. </p><p> The door was answered by a woman they didn’t recognize.</p><p> “Sorry, is this the Dagon’s?” Crowley asked, flashing a quick smile. The woman blinked, and then quickly nodded. </p><p> “Ah, yes. What may I do for you?”</p><p> “Er, hello. We were hoping you could tell us if Annie is in?”</p><p> “Of course, please follow me,” the woman stepped behind the door so they could walk inside, and began to walk down a wide hallway. “She’s in the sitting room. Miss Annie?”</p><p> Crowley gaped at the walls - when had Annie become a collector of fine art? He and Ezra shared a look before the woman allowed them into the room where Annie sat. </p><p> “Annie?” Crowley walked forward, happy, if not surprised, at what he saw. Her hair was cut short, and around her neck she’d adorned a gold necklace - something she would have never been able to afford fifteen years ago. She looked up, blinked, and then jumped from her place on the sofa to greet them. </p><p> “Oh my god, Tony! And...wait, is that you, Ezra?”</p><p> “Ah..it is indeed,” Ezra said cheerfully, extending a hand. Annie frowned and shook her head. “No, no, I haven’t seen you two in ages! Come on, hug me!”</p><p> “Um…” Crowley wasn't sure of what to say. Ezra shot him a glare, elbowed him, then wrapped his arms around Annie. He followed suit, slightly confused. </p><p> This was not the Annie he’d remembered. </p><p> “Hey, Iris, can you go get Opal?” Annie yelled. “Oh, and <em> please </em> bring us some drinks. Alcohol!!”</p><p> Oh, there she was. </p><p> After Annie had sat them down, Crowley thought to ask something. “Who’s Opal?”</p><p> “I’m Opal,” said a booming voice from behind them. The group turned to see a stately, shining woman. Her hair and clothes were immaculate; Crowley would have to ask her where she got that dress. “Ah! Is that you? <em> The </em> Anthony J. Crowley?” </p><p> Crowley stood and tipped his glasses a bit so she could see his eyes. “Er...that would be me. And this is my boyfriend - fiancé, actually - Ezra. Fell.”</p><p> “It’s so lovely to have you in our home! Are you comfortable?”</p><p> “...Our home?”</p><p><em>  “Annie.” </em>Opal clucked her tongue and sat opposite them, shooting her a stern look. “You didn’t tell them?”</p><p> “Tell them what?” Annie snapped, examining her nails. </p><p> “That we’re <em> married.”  </em></p><p>“Oh..right,” Annie blushed, embarrassed, and flashed her hand, showing off a gigantic diamond ring. “We’ve been together about seven years, married for three.”</p><p> “And, if I may be so bold,” Ezra said, politely as possible - “What line of work are either of you in?”</p><p> Annie and Opal looked at each before they both began to laugh.</p><p> “Take a guess,” Annie said, grinning fiercely, and prompted them again. “Guess.”</p><p> Both Ezra and Crowley’s answers were different.</p><p> “Uh...you own a literal gold mine?”</p><p> “You inherited a lot of money?”</p><p> “No...I thought you would...never mind. Just tell them, babe,” Annie sighed, accepting a glass from the woman who’d answered the door. “Thanks, Jan.”</p><p> Jan smiled and went around the room, offering drinks, which left everyone silent until the tray was empty and she had left.</p><p> “I’m the mayor,” Opal mused, taking a sip from her brandy. “Didn’t you two grow up here?”</p><p> “Uh...yeah, but we don’t exactly-ow!” </p><p> “Yes, so sorry we seemed to...forget,” Ezra murmured, glaring at Crowley. Opal shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I know you two don’t live here anymore - in fact, we’re all rather surprised that you came back.”</p><p> “My father died,” Crowley groused, taking a slow sip from his glass. Opal and Annie nodded. </p><p> “We knew.”</p><p> “The service was nice,” Opal said quietly. “But because you didn’t come it was rather...simple.”</p><p> “Quiet, too,” Annie muttered, earning another death stare from her wife. “What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”</p><p> “It’s alright,” Crowley set his glass down. “I had a feeling no one would show up. He wasn’t exactly...popular.”</p><p> “Well, I must say, Mr. Crowley, that you are quite the opposite - especially around here,” Opal had on her smile again, and both Ezra and Crowley could see just how authoritative she was. “Especially after that debacle all those years ago.”</p><p> “I’d rather put that behind us,” he muttered, watching Opal watch him and Ezra. “It was a long time ago.”</p><p> “You know, I think Freddie and Ligur are still around. They’ve been in and out of jail for ages, though - wouldn’t want to go visit them.” Annie said, draining her own glass. </p><p> Crowley nervously jerked his head towards Ezra. He was nervous too. That comforted him, in an odd sort of way. </p><p> “Don’t you have a friend that’s still living here, too, Ezra?” </p><p> “I-I don’t know what you mean,” Ezra said quietly, fiddling with his bowtie. It was getting uncomfortably warm. His eyes shot up to meet Opals. “Who are you talking about, exactly?”</p><p> “Micheal Connor.”</p><p> Ezra suddenly brightened, happy to hear the name change. “Ah, did he finally-”</p><p> “Transition? Yes. Quite a few years ago, actually. Dropped out of some convent, came back - <em> she’s </em> a vet now.” Opal smiled, but her tone was ice cold. </p><p> Ezra beamed, but suddenly felt uneasy. “That’s-that's lovely. I’m so glad to hear it.” </p><p> “Are you two, er, visiting anyone else?” Annie asked, her eyes darting back and forth between the two men. </p><p> Crowley glanced around Ezra, and then at her. “Yes,” he stood up, and offered his hand to his angel. “We should actually be going now - we’ve taken up enough of your time, yes, angel?”</p><p> “Oh, how sweet!” Opal clutched her heart. “Is that a pet name?”</p><p> Ezra nodded and accepted Crowley’s hand. “Uh, yes - it was so lovely talking to you both.”</p><p> “Jan will see you out,” Opal said from the confines of her chair. “Come back anytime.”</p><p> “We’ll be sure not to do that,” Crowley muttered under his breath. He pushed open the door before Jan could escort them out and groaned. “God, that was hell.”</p><p> “You know, it wasn’t so bad until she called Micheal a she. How can you be...and...at the same time? I mean…” he shook his head, feeling slightly perturbed. </p><p> Crowley got into the car after him and shuddered. “Did you notice how weird that whole conversation felt?”</p><p> “So it wasn’t just me.” Ezra rolled his eyes. “Maybe she just made a mistake?”</p><p> “I don’t think so, angel,” Crowley started the car and drove out into the street, past all the luxurious homes. “I dunno. It was weird. Off. Glad it’s over - look, at least we won’t have to come back, right?”</p><p> Ezra let out a shaky breath. “Right. To the cemetery?”</p><p> Crowley grabbed his hand, gave it a tight squeeze, and then let out a breath of his own. He needed it. </p><p> “Right. To the cemetery.” </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>holy shit. second to last chapter. </p><p>hoping everyone is doing well. sending good vibes your way ✌️ also just binge watched the show and I have SO many thoughts about Gabriel haha.</p><p>I would also like to let you guys in on some info about my schedule -</p><p> </p><p>**THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY LONG I’M SORRY**</p><p>I have gotten a lot of positive feedback about my upload schedule - thank you so, so much. I appreciate it. I only start large works every so often and then try to dedicate a single month to put out the story in its entirety.</p><p>But, alas, I don’t think that will be the case after this series.</p><p>What I had been planning to do was set aside this month and work on some personal writing projects rather than fanfiction (which, although it is deeply personal, the characters aren’t mine, y’know?) but lately I’ve been drawn away from that idea.</p><p>This upcoming month, as most of you probably know, is pride month. It will be my first year celebrating as a member of the LGBTQ+ community, and I’m very excited, and I would love to contribute other works besides fanfiction.</p><p>So! What I’ve decided to do is spread out uploads. I will start a new (GO) series this June, set in Ancient Rome. It will be heavily based off of actual historic events. I will probably upload once a week (or a little more) and spend the rest of the time working on other things.</p><p>**OK ITS OVER NOW**</p><p>Thanks for reading that. Hope you all have a lovely day, and I appreciate every single one of you. ♥️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. I Will</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> “So,” Crowley parked the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So,” Ezra repeated. They shared a quick glance before getting out, the sky already beginning to darken. “It’ll be quite late when we get home - we could always stay with my mum.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley only stopped at the edge, where the parking lot met the grass and where the grass met row after row of headstones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah,” he was shaking. “If she’ll take us in, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know she will - I’ll just go in, have a chat, and...we can talk it over. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Smooth</span>
  </em>
  <span> things over.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He continued to look out into the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’ll be fine, right, angel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra bit his lip. “I-I won’t know for sure. And neither will you, until you do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Alright - well. I guess we’ll...be getting on with it then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra bit his lip, and Crowley could see that he was anxious. There was a church right by them, where services were held for those that wanted them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You go on ahead, dear,” he was saying, and motioned to it. He didn’t dare turn to look at it - maybe he just wasn’t ready. “I’ll...I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Alright,” and Crowley took the first step into the cemetery, careful not to step on the graves themselves. He walked for a long time, until he could see a fresh plot in the farthest corner. Edging near it, he almost felt sick - but kept going, until he was right on top of his parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> When he looked down, he saw an older tombstone, and then a new one. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Might as well get this over with. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He turned his gaze onto the newer of the two, and let himself go. The tears that he’d been holding back for so long, bound underneath the shell that he’d formed so meticulously- broke free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The first thing he did after he’d sobered up was pull out a small note, withered from time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You told me I shouldn’t wear women’s clothes or mum's lipstick,” he read to everyone, (and to no one, because they couldn’t hear him now) his voice a driving force now. “You told me that I was a...a faggot,” he pushed himself through the list. “That I was something unremarkable. That I’d never amount to anything like my mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He gasped, folded the note, and pushed the note into his jacket, and then crouched down. He felt that it was appropriate - he’d never felt comfortable standing over anyone. Maybe that’s what differentiated him from his father. It was never his style. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I wish in the bottom of my heart that you were still alive. Just so I could prove to you that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> something remarkable. That I didn’t end up like mum and that if I had I could still end up ten times better than you. And you were horrible to me - and yet...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He paused here, because he didn’t know if it was how he truly felt - and then he knew that it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “...And yet I forgive you. I know you never loved me. It’s alright, though - I never loved you either. But I don’t want to hate you, because you didn’t hate me. You were a really fucked up guy with a lot of fucked up issues. I won’t say that it hasn’t been easy, but...but if you were here right now, I would thank you. If you hadn’t been such a fucked up guy, I wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have my clothes, or my watch, or my house, or my boyfriend. So...thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He took a heavy breath, stood, then stared at the other, older headstone. It was small. The cheapest that his father could have gotten, too, with just enough money left over to take his girlfriend on a trip to Hawaii, and leave Crowley alone. He’d tried to forget about that, but it was there, and he couldn’t ignore it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shaking, he reached into his pockets and dug out the photos. One by one, he placed them on his mother's grave and let out a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, mum.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Say it again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m so, so sorry,” he was crying again, because it was all he could do at that moment, instead of the five-hundred other things he could have done that involved a lot of screaming and angry slurs. “I’m sorry for not coming. For not...visiting you. I know the last few years were rough. I remember them, actually…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He rubbed at his nose, and then lowered himself back down to the ground, crouching between the plots. </span>
</p><p><span> “But I know that...that I have my memories. I have the memory of all of us at home, at Christmas, when I was four, and the last vacation we took, right before you got diagnosed, mum…” he sniffed, grinning at the thought of his mother taking him to the grocery store. That was a good one. “I’m happy we got to share it.”<br/></span> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span> Ezra stared at the halls of the church, then the stained glass windows, and then at the pews. It was a very familiar sight, nostalgia surging through him, hitting him, and drowning him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He took a seat at the first one, happy that it wasn’t the old church, happy that he could be here, alone. Not that he would have minded, having Crowley there, but it gave him the space that was needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He didn’t particularly want to go see his father's grave. He’d visited it before, and he’d already made his peace. And as much as he missed him, he’d already accepted it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er, hello,” he said, looking around him, still wary that someone might have followed him in. “I suppose I don’t know who I’m talking to - the last lesson I taught actually pertained to...erm...well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>angels, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I believe we discussed that they’re the true messengers of God, so when one does actually try to contact one from...above, that is, they usually don’t get God himself but rather-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>EZRA. LISTEN TO ME.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Ezra blinked, and then looked up. “Sorry?” He squeaked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>YOU MADE A WISE DECISION COMING HERE. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>SO DID CROWLEY. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er...thank you,” he said happily. “Sorry for assuming, but you sound like a woman, are you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I AM.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Shocked, Ezra leaned back in the pew and gasped. <br/></span>
  <em>
    <span> I am. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Th-th…” He didn’t have any words. “I..”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>GO VISIT YOUR MOTHER. SHE IS WAITING. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Yes...o-of course,” he said slowly, swallowing all the lumps in his throat. He got up to leave, but the voice, the clear, rumbling voice, stopped him one last time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>EZRA?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Yes, your…” he realized he had never prepared for this kind of thing. “Your holiness?” He finished lamely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HAVE FAITH IN YOURSELF. YOU ARE WORTHY. YOU HAVE DONE MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER UNDERSTAND. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>WHEN YOU ARE READY, I WILL BE THE ONE WAITING FOR YOU. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Ezra blushed. “Um...thank you. I try,” he didn’t know what else to say, so he shuffled towards the altar. “I...I’m glad I got to speak with you. I know that sounds rather stupid, coming from a-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>EZRA, YOU’RE BABBLING. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>GOOD DAY. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Ah...right,” he said to himself, almost amused. “Thanks ever so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Who were you speaking to, angel?” Ezra turned and saw Crowley standing there. He didn’t seem to fit in there, a black, gangly figure amongst the creamy stone walls surrounding them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Er...no one but myself, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Funny. Sounded like someone else,” he said slyly, and slithered up beside him. “It’s a nice church. Nicer than the other one, if I remember correctly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, I thought so too. Rather…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Quaint?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes,” he said, admiring the paintings on the ceiling. “Have you, ah...said everything that needed to be said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley grinned. “I have indeed. Got a lot off my chest. You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I do feel much better, as a matter of fact,” Ezra pondered, though he was really focused on Crowley’s eyes, and how… “Crowley, you’re not wearing sunglasses!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wha-” Crowley felt his face for a minute and frowned. “That’s impossible - I was...I was just wearing ‘em, wasn’t I?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I,” Ezra started to say something but felt a warm presence behind him and smiled beatifically. “I...I guess it’s ineffable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Losing my glasses at a cemetery is ineffable?” Crowley laughed and wiped at his eyes. “Yeah, okay, angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ezra shook his head. “No. Look up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He pointed at the center of the ceiling, where a panel of glass allowed a clear view of the sky above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Crowley looked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I don’t get it. All I see is-” he paused, clamped his mouth shut, and gasped. “Light.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He glanced down at Ezra, and then back up at the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “...How is this possible? I...I don’t understand,” he was shocked, but a huge, magnificent grin was exploding into his face. “I mean, I..I just..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What did I tell you?” Ezra coached, smiling too. Crowley shook his head, and groaned. </span>
</p><p><span> “Ngk...it’s ineffable.”  <br/></span><br/> Ezra smiled and slinked his arm into Crowley’s. The other grinned, and looked back up to stare at the light streaming in.</p><p> “C’mon, angel. Let’s get out of here.” <br/> <br/> “Race you to the car?”</p><p>
  <em> “Absolutely.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>-End-</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HAPPY PRIDE!!</p><p>I had a slightly different ending planned, but I feel as though this is the best version. </p><p>Thank you to everyone that has read/commented/given kudos/bookmarked this fic! Your responses often kept me going :) </p><p>I’ve only been in high school for a year now (I’m 14) so my actual experience of it is very limited. That being said, it was interesting to see how the story played out lol </p><p>So...yeah! That’s it :) Again, thank you so, so much. I appreciate all of you. I had so much fun writing this story and interacting w/ all of you.</p><p>❤️🧡💛💚💙💜</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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